


a world I wish I was in: Childhood Phase

by Seuris, Songspinner



Series: a world I wish I was in [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Bullying, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Gen, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seuris/pseuds/Seuris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songspinner/pseuds/Songspinner
Summary: Claude runs away from home to claim his place as the heir to House Riegan at age 13. The house has maintained friendly relations over the centuries with its sister house, House Blaiddyd of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. So when tragedy strikes and the young Prince Dimitri is the only survivor, the duke and his grandson visit Fhirdiad to pay their respects...kicking off a friendship--and more--that will last a lifetime.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: a world I wish I was in [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591729
Comments: 56
Kudos: 258
Collections: Quality Fics





	1. Fhirdiad: First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> An AU in which Claude and Dimitri get to be childhood friends and grow up helping each other. Because these boys deserve that. ;_; Of course, this causes its own problems, too...
> 
> (Subsequent works in this series end up with their friendship developing romantically, but in this one they're too young. I tagged the ship anyway so it would come up in searches!)

_14 Wyvern Moon, 1176_

It’s been two years since the first letter from Fodlan arrived: the one from Duke Riegan of the Leicester Alliance, who expressed his joy at having discovered where his daughter ran off to all those years ago, and his sorrow at having to deliver the news that her brother—the heir to House Riegan—had died in a terrible accident. The letter begged her to come home and inherit in her brother’s stead, apparently. Claude had never known any home but the palace in Almyra before then, but he was intrigued to hear more.

Unfortunately, his mother wasn’t terribly keen to tell him anything more. She dismissed the letter as irrelevant, saying that she hadn’t spoken to her brother in over ten years and the fact that House Riegan was on the brink of collapse and would fall if she didn’t come back to inherit meant nothing to her; she was the warrior queen of Almyra, now, and damn the rest. So Claude took it upon himself to learn about his mother’s family, and even back then he knew enough to know that if his mother forfeited her inheritance, he was well within his rights to claim it for himself.

And one day soon after, a crowd of other children in the marketplace recognized him and tried to goad him into fighting each of them one by one, then jeered him as a coward and pelted him with rocks and rotten fruit when he refused. And when he came home to tell his mother, she told him he should have accepted their challenge and beaten them all, to show them he was no coward; and if he couldn’t do that, he needed to train harder and get stronger. He couldn’t rely on his parents to fight his battles for him, she said. That was the night he packed a bag and ran for the border.

Upon proving his identity—and thus, legitimacy—through his Crest, House Riegan and the Leicester Roundtable accepted him (if, in most cases, reluctantly) as the rightful heir to his grandfather’s title. That was when the second letter came: the one from King Lambert of House Blaiddyd, of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, welcoming the new heir and delivering greetings to Claude from his own son and heir of roughly the same age, Prince Dimitri.

Since then, more letters passed between the two boys. It was nice, Claude thought, to correspond with someone who had never seen him in person. Because someone who had never seen him in person didn’t know he was…different from everyone else here. He learned that Dimitri liked to ride horses and that it was much colder where he lived.

And now, another letter has come. This one is from Grand Duke Rufus, Dimitri’s uncle, informing them of the awful tragedy that has befallen the royal family. Duke Riegan doesn’t tell Claude everything, but he sneaks into his grandfather’s office late at night to read the letter himself. He learns what has happened to Dimitri’s family and friends…and he learns that Dimitri is still alive, despite that. The duke plans a trip to Faerghus, to deliver condolences and allow the two boys to meet in person at last.

Claude arrives in Fhirdiad full of nervous anticipation and a vague, nauseating dread. He’s sure that Dimitri will hate him, when he sees him. The children in Derdriu do, after all, and so do their parents—why would the Blaiddyds be any different? Dressed in his best finery, after a solid week of cramming in etiquette lessons on how to behave and speak in the company of Faerghan royalty, the 13-year-old heir of House Riegan accompanies his grandfather until the adults leave him alone with the crown prince so they can have an important political meeting of one kind or another.

Claude refuses to let Dimitri see how terrified he is, but he reminds himself that the other boy just lost his parents a few months ago, so he probably shouldn’t joke his way through this the way he’s used to doing. And so, when the door closes behind him and he’s face-to-face with the prince, all he can think to say is, “…hi. I’m Claude.”

* * *

It had started so well. So promising. Dimitri had his friends, thick as thieves they always were, but he still remembers vividly the day that he 'met' Claude. The young prince was always waiting, breath bated, for those letters from the Alliance; whenever a messenger would seek him out to deliver one, young Dimitri would tuck himself away in his room, hidden away in his bundle of blankets to settle in and read, to learn more about him. If anyone had asked, he would have said wholeheartedly that Claude was his friend, and he remembers hearing father remark to Uncle Rodrigue about his pride. Pride that Blaiddyd and Riegan had 'forged a connection', he said.

His father. As Dimitri sits here, waiting anxiously for his Uncle Rufus to usher Claude into the sitting room, his thoughts take a turn for the worst. When the door opens, the flames still dance across his vision... it isn't until his uncle's hand finds his shoulder that the prince is dragged harshly back into reality, though he's gotten good at hiding when his thoughts drift. The only sign is a slight widening of the eyes, and then Dimitri forces his posture to relax again...

His uncle's introduction of Claude is a blur, he'll admit, because now that his mind is back in the present, Dimitri is all anticipation and nervous excitement again. He feels like he's known the boy forever, and yet they're only now seeing each other's faces—that's quite a big deal, isn't it? Uncle Rufus gives him a stern reminder, something about propriety, something about manners, before he and his entourage filter out.

Soon, it's only the two of them. Dimitri turns to Claude, eyes wide and breath in his throat. _It's really happening?_

"Claude," he repeats, softly, as if testing the name out on his tongue. As if he hasn't said it so often, by now, telling his friends and family about the boy from the Alliance who's become his friend. When he speaks, Dimitri can't help but marvel at that, too. Of course he has a voice, everyone does. But now the prince has _heard_ it.

Propriety indicates Dimitri should greet him, formally, as the heir of the Kingdom to the heir of the Alliance. What he does instead is approach the boy, watching him in apparent wonder, before reaching for his hands and taking them gently into his own. Claude is shorter than he expected him to be, even if not much. By the time his eyes have drifted from their hands to Claude's face, Dimitri is smiling again, like normal, like always.

"I can't believe you're here." It's whispered; talk too loudly, and he may wake himself up.

There’s a part of Claude that literally can’t believe Dimitri’s reaction...for a moment, he suspects the prince is making fun of him, setting him up for humiliation. Or worse. The last time he thought someone his age truly liked him and enjoyed his company, he almost died. Surely, the prince of Faerghus wouldn’t pull such a thing during a diplomatic visit, though?

But looking up at Dimitri’s wide blue eyes--the boy is taller than he expected from the letters, huh--and seeing his wondering smile, it’s extremely difficult to stay suspicious. He had no idea Dimitri would be so...well...cute. And his voice is soft and pleasant. When the prince takes his hands, he can feel his face flushing with warmth. No one’s ever treated him like this before, like he’s something special, like his presence alone is worth being happy about--even at the Riegan estate, the celebrations weren’t really in his honor, but that of his Crest. His existence as heir. Not him, as a person. It’s...hard to take this in.

“Uh…” What does Claude say to that? Oh, right--all that etiquette training is good for something after all, it seems. Duke Riegan was adamant that he observe all the proper protocols for dealing with Faerghan royalty, even though he never did so in writing in any of his letters. Those protocols are very different from the ones he learned back home, but he’s a quick study, and he’s suddenly reminded of what he should be doing. He clears his throat, giving Dimitri a small bow even while he leaves his hands in the other boy’s gentle grip. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Your Highness. I...guess I should have said I’m Claude von Riegan, heir to His Grace, the Duke of House Riegan of the Leicester Alliance.” But he can’t help sneaking in a smirk. “But you knew that already.”

 _Oh. Oh, of course, he—_ Dimitri had nearly forgotten that this is, first and foremost, diplomatic. Official business. He's grateful that they're alone here, or else he'd be chastised to his room and back. The prince seems to realize his blunder quite quickly and nearly stammers. "Come now... you're always Claude in your letters. If you won't tell, I certainly won't—o-or if you're simply more comfortable with that, then... that's also fine." How odd this feels, knowing that this is his friend and feeling as if he's meeting someone new entirely. It's that thought alone that he can't get over... knowing that he had someone out there to talk to, who had never judged him for the things he wrote in his letters, and–- and here he is, face to face...

Claude lets out a small sigh of relief. "I was hoping you'd say that. Is it...okay if I just call you Dimitri in person, too?" He really doesn't want to screw up this Fodlan nobility thing, knowing how mad people will be in Derdriu if he makes a fool of himself or does something... 'uncouth' in front of the Faerghan royalty. Besides, it seems like the prince really does actually like him even in person, so he wants desperately not to do anything to offend. He doesn't want to go back to having no one he can talk to without pretending or feeling defensive all the time.

That question has the prince putting a hand on his chin. "I don't mind at all. I think... I can ask Rodrigue. He's-– he was one of father's closest friends. His advisor. He is... looking after me." Probably miraculously, that reminder seems to catch Dimitri off guard only for a moment. "There are probably people around here who would get upset if you did, but... I don't mind. I want you to just call me Dimitri."

Claude thinks about offering his condolences for Dimitri's loss, at the mention of his father and his obvious, if brief, dip in mood. But the prince doesn't seem to want to talk about that, and Claude completely understands that desire. So instead he grins, hearing Dimitri encourage him to defy these noble protocols already. "Well, maybe I'll just do it where those people can't hear me. And then whenever they're around and I call you 'Your Highness,' you'll know I'm really secretly calling you Dimitri instead. ;)"

"Then I'll do the same. And that way, they have nothing to get mad about. Um, what is it that I'm supposed to be calling you?" Dimitri doesn't even appear inclined to pretend that he knows...

Claude rolls his eyes at his own words: "When they want to be formal, they call me 'Master Riegan.' Which sounds stupid. But when you say it, it'll be like our own private joke."

"Master Riegan? That does sound..." Quite stuffy. That's almost as bad as 'Your Highness.' Dimitri nods, determined. "Yes, like... something just for us. It will have to do."

 _Something just for us._ The thought feels a bit strange to Claude, but in a good way. And after all, haven’t they already got something just for them? Their letters are theirs alone, always have been.

"Have you ever been here in Faerghus before?" Dimitri asks.

Claude shakes his head. "No, never. It's cold here, you weren't kidding." He's starting to feel a little more at ease, at the reminder of their letters. It's a little easier now to see the prince as the same person he'd written to all that time, when he could only imagine what his friend might look like. "Have you ever been to Derdriu?"

The mention of Derdriu manages to banish those flickers of melancholy that appeared only moments ago, as Dimitri's mind goes into overdrive trying to picture the city through the bits and pieces he's been told by Claude. "I haven't!" He fumbles for a moment with the wooly shawl around his shoulders, untying the fastener at his chest to free himself of its weight... he hesitates, before stepping just slightly closer to the other boy. "Every time I say I want to go, Sylvain just says I'd melt if I did."

Claude watches the prince remove his shawl and hover nearby in some confusion. He rolls his eyes at the nonsense this Sylvain has said--he remembers Dimitri mentioning his friends in his letters, and Sylvain is the silly one, as he recalls. "You won't _melt_ , that's ridiculous. It's on the water, so it's cool there even in the summer."

Dimitri looks a bit skeptical, but he nods. "Are you... cold?"

Claude blinks at the question. Is _that_ what he's doing with the shawl? He's really just going to...let him borrow it? Just like that? Doesn't that go against some rule or something...? "Uh...actually, yeah, a little. But you don't have to..." He trails off, his face reddening again. Dimitri's so _nice_. And it really seems to be sincere. He hasn't given Claude a single dirty look or sideways glance yet.

The prince moves carefully, bringing the shawl to wrap around Claude's shoulders, fumbling for a minute before he manages to secure it around him, and takes a step back to admire his handiwork. It's a little big on the boy, considering it was tailored for himself, but he guesses that must make it even warmer for him. He nods, satisfied. "Being cold won't do! I want to show you around, but they won't have fires going until after sunset. And besides, some of the best parts are outside, too. I hope you don't mind that..." But then a thought occurs to him, and Dimitri looks at him with wide eyes. "Oh, I didn't even think—are you tired? Isn't it a long ride from Derdriu to here? Would you... rather just sit?"

Claude's ears just keep burning as Dimitri wraps the shawl around him with such deliberate care. The only people to ever do things like this for him before were servants. But Dimitri's his friend...is this the sort of thing friends do in Faerghus? He has to admit, the shawl does its job well. "I don't mind. I like the great outdoors. Besides, now I have this to keep me warm." He shrugs his shoulders a little to indicate the shawl, grinning. "And sure, it's a long ride, but I'm not tired. I want to see everything."

Dimitri doesn't seem entirely convinced at first, but he takes Claude at his word. The young prince nods and begins to pace, hand to his chin, as he considers their options. "Well, there are plenty of places to go. I don't think it will be a problem where... tell me, do you want to get something from the kitchens first, or go out to the stables?"

Claude hasn’t felt hungry all day, mostly because his dread of what Dimitri would think of him ruined his appetite. But now, with that weight lifted from his shoulders, food sounds appealing. “Let’s visit the kitchens first, I haven’t eaten much all day.”

"Well, that won't do." By this time of day, they've usually got plenty of sweets and snacks cooked up for the staff, and it's no secret that the Prince of Faerghus is beloved by the servants of his household: he's certain they're willing to spare a pastry or two for him and his cherished friend. Dimitri steps to him with a smile, and offers his arm. "In that case, let's be off! Food first, and then you can meet Aramis."

Claude takes Dimitri's arm with only a second's hesitation; the gesture has all but erased any lingering doubts he had of the prince's sincerity. It seems a bit like a dream, really, to be here in a Faerghus that seems just like the letters described; to be not only in Dimitri's physical, actual presence, but practically spoiled rotten within minutes of meeting him. Now that he's pretty confident that they really _are_ friends and Dimitri somehow doesn't care that he's different, all the excitement he felt upon first hearing that they were coming to Fhirdiad comes back in a rush. "Yes! I can't wait. I feel like I've been waiting to meet your favorite horse forever. Then what?"

"Hmm... well, that's up to you. Rodrigue will be in the yard training, so we'll want to stay away from there if we can, but everything else... wherever you want to go, we will." Dimitri leads them to the door and into the hall, footsteps light, greetings soft whenever they should happen to pass by a servant or a guard; even when met with the occasional questioning glance, his grip on Claude's arm never once seems to falter.

 _Wherever you want to go..._ Dimitri keeps saying these things. Truth be told, Claude wants to go everywhere, do everything--anything and everything that's part of Dimitri's life, he wants to see it. He didn't have friends like this in Almyra, or in Derdriu...but maybe here in Faerghus, things are different. Maybe this is the sort of place he was looking for when he crossed the mountains they call Fodlan's Throat here.

Still, he can't help eyeing every person they pass warily, looking for signs of disgust or disdain, signs that they don't want him here and don't like that he's hanging around their prince. He's overheard too many adults at the Riegan estate tell their children not to talk to 'that strange boy'--it was one such incident that prompted his grandfather to take him aside and tell him that under _no circumstances_ is he to reveal where he's from or who he is there. As far as anyone else can know, Claude grew up in Derdriu and no one needs to know anything about why he only recently became known as a noble there. So it's with some trepidation that he walks alongside Dimitri as they venture outside that room where they were alone. But the prince's steadfastness in never making him feel like he doesn't belong exactly where he is--by Dimitri's side--helps more than he could ever express.

"I still think that the best places in Fhirdiad are outside of the palace," Dimitri says after a minute or so. "Maybe we can go out into town... do you remember that ornament that I sent you?" It was some months back, a delicate little glass deer that he'd nearly broken trying to get it back to the palace in his excitement.

Claude's face lights up. "Of course I remember! Look--" He unbuttons the top few buttons of his jacket and reaches his fingers under the collar of his shirt (and the shawl) to pull out that same ornament, now turned into a gold-backed pendant that he wears on a leather cord around his neck. "I asked my grandfather to take it to a jeweler. This way I can carry it around with me without risking breaking it."

Dimitri's breath catches in his throat. He'd wanted to gift him something special, something unique, but to tell the truth, a part of him had thought that Claude would simply put it somewhere, left on a shelf to ogle occasionally, and nothing more. But he really... A cautious hand reaches out, brushing a gloved finger carefully across its surface, and warmth blooms in him. _He kept it, he really did..._ "There are all kinds of things in Fhirdiad like that. Oh, and we can get you a better cloak, and better gloves and a scarf—you'll be so cold here, but I won't let you freeze."

Gods, Claude thinks, is he cursed to spend _all_ his time in Faerghus blushing like an idiot? Dimitri's reassurance--'I won't let you freeze'--hits home like a blow. No one has ever said anything like that to him before, either; he was raised to take care of himself, because to ask for help shows weakness. To rely on someone else is an admission of uncertainty at best, and more often cowardice. But what he's learned about Dimitri through his letters doesn't make him seem like a coward to Claude--if anything, he's always gotten the impression that the prince is quite brave. And certainly, his own mother could never be called a coward with a straight face, and she's from Fodlan, too. Claude himself, though...well. That thought is best left unfinished...ironically. Ha. “Let’s do it, let’s go into the city after I meet your horses. I want to see it all. Show me _everything_.”

"Everything," Dimitri echoes. For a second longer the prince seems dazed, almost disbelieving... before his eyes flicker back to meet Claude's, and he smiles wider than he's been able to since his parents died. "I will. I'll show you everything!"


	2. Fhirdiad: Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude learns that Faerghus is not, in fact, the place he was looking for when he came to Fodlan. Dimitri tells Claude about the Tragedy of Duscur, from his perspective. Together, they start to dream about a better future.

Dimitri leads Claude through the hall with vigor renewed, pointing out things of note on the way – the library, his favorite parlor that no one checks, the training grounds he mentioned earlier where Rodrigue is most likely to be. As the tour progresses, Claude subjects the prince to a barrage of questions in a quiet voice. _What kinds of books are in the library? Does Fhirdiad have a bigger one in town? Do they have books about places outside Fodlan? What do you do in the parlor? Can you take naps there undisturbed? (He likes finding places to nap undisturbed.) You like to train with lances, right? Do they make you train unarmed too? (He doesn't like training unarmed.) How old is this castle? Was it built when Faerghus was still part of the Empire?_

The questions finally cease when they reach the kitchens. Dimitri reluctantly pulls away from Claude enough to face him, and whisper. "Rodrigue doesn't like me taking sweets before dinner, but the staff don't mind. I'll go quickly and get something, and then I'll be right back—stay here for a moment, alright?" He still hasn't released Claude's hand.

Claude forces himself to let go of Dimitri's hand first, even though he'd rather cling to it. "You got it." But once Dimitri's out of sight, the creeping dread returns. It's only made worse when someone on the staff passes by and then stops to squint at him, asking him what exactly he thinks he's doing here and whether he's causing trouble, and is that the prince's shawl? He doesn't exactly help matters with his flippant, sarcastic response. By the time Dimitri comes back, he's sitting down and fiddling idly with a coin between his fingers, staring into the middle distance.

It takes a little bit longer than Dimitri assumed it would. The staff are used to sparing him a morsel or two, so for him to ask for more than his usual amount... it doesn't take long for him to admit his intent, and to reveal that his friend from the Alliance ( _yes, the one I told you about, Claude, that one_ ) is here and currently touring around the palace with him. He's sent on his way eventually, and comes back into the hall with treats for the both of them.

When Claude notices the prince, he looks up. "Hey...are you sure it's okay for me to...wander around with you like this?"

The question catches Dimitri off-guard. He stops there, blinks incredulously. "Why wouldn't it be? You're a guest, and you also happen to be my friend, if you forgot." He tries for a smile, but seeing the other boy suddenly seem... off, somehow is–-it's a little worrying. Dimitri moves to his side and joins him on the floor, and offers him a round handkerchief. The treat inside appears to be a... chocolate globe?

Claude smiles too, though it's not a smile he really feels right now. "How could I forget? I have it in writing." It dawns on him then that Dimitri doesn't even seem to understand why his being here might be a problem. _...oh_. He doesn't really want to explain it. For one thing he hates talking about it; for another, he's pretty sure it would upset Dimitri, and he doesn't want that. He takes the handkerchief and examines the chocolate globe, sniffing it a little.

"Did someone say something?" Dimitri tries to distract himself with their treats instead; the prince takes a bite of his own, from the bottom, revealing a filling of cream and strawberry jam. "To you, I mean. If I need to... I'll do _whatever_ I need to."

"Kind of. I mean, yeah. One of the staff." Claude takes a bite of the chocolate thing and chews it thoughtfully. "This is good."

"Who?" For all the effort Dimitri made, after that first bite, his treat is forgotten. He's still sitting, but his eyes, his expression are... almost carefully blank. The warmth in his eyes, that smile, all gone. "I'll involve Rodrigue, if I must. Do they believe I would tolerate this?"

Claude stares at Dimitri. Is he really that mad about it? It looks like he upset the prince anyway... "Uh...I don't know who, just...someone. It's fine, really, I'm used to it. Are you okay?"

"That isn't... that doesn't mean anything." Contrary to Claude's belief, Dimitri is... aware. Even without having commented on it, reacted to it, it isn't difficult in a place like Faerghus, surrounded by Faerghans, to see that Claude is different. "It isn't... fine." That anger is quick to fade, it seems, though now he just... "... Claude. I don't... I just don't understand. I know what they're thinking, and maybe it's... worse, now, because of what happened." The pastry is set aside; Dimitri hugs his knees close, and his eyes stare down the corridor. "You haven't even done anything. And they... think that you'll do something? What, exactly? I would... _love_ to know."

 _So he does get it. But why is he so upset about it?_ "Well..." He could tell Dimitri about the specific things people have said, but they would only distress him more. "I don't know. They just don't like people who are different. Outsiders." _And I'm an outsider everywhere._ He busies himself with another bite of the chocolate cake thing. "It's the same in--...back home. What do you mean, worse because of what happened?"

Claude's words give Dimitri pause. If even possible, his face grows that slightest bit paler. "Wh... what happened. In–- in Duscur." His hands ball into fists atop his knees. "They... they were able to say that the people of Duscur were responsible for what happened, and nobody batted an eye. Even though I saw—even though I told them what happened!" In spite of his upset, Dimitri's been told off and shut down enough to know he ought to keep his voice down, when speaking about it. He purses his lips after his outburst, waiting, listening; when the hall stays quiet, he sighs again. "It's not fair. You didn't do _anything_."

Claude looks at Dimitri with wide eyes. To hear the same thoughts he's had his whole life repeated back to him by someone else, someone who's clearly sincere about them, when he himself didn't even say anything about it...it's hard to believe. But what is he talking about? Claude shifts to sit facing the prince instead of next to him. "Hey, um...do you want to tell _me_ what happened?" He keeps his voice low. "I'll listen."

Well, at least... Claude doesn't seem to think that he's totally crazy. Dimitri considers for a moment, chewing on his lip, before swiping his treat from the floor and standing—he offers his hand to Claude, to help him to his feet, too. "I... I will. But not here. Somewhere private. You... did say earlier you wanted to see that parlor I mentioned, right?" That'll be fine, he thinks. They'll have privacy there.

Claude takes the offered hand and stands, with a nod; he doesn't let go, this time. "Sure." He tries to remember what he knows about Duscur, on the way there. The answer is, unfortunately, not a lot. He knows it's a country that borders the Kingdom, but that's about it. How do you blame a whole country for something? Why wouldn't they listen to this story Dimitri told them? It seems ridiculous that they could think he, of all people, was lying. So they must just not care. Claude's brow is furrowed in vague anger by the time they get to where they're going; he has a feeling he's not going to like whatever Dimitri's about to say.

Muscle memory has the prince guiding Claude back through the inner palace and, eventually, to a quiet little sitting room enclosed behind a plain door. His father and stepmother were the only ones who knew of his fondness for this place. Dimitri closes the door behind them and moves further in—in one corner, by a window overlooking a courtyard, sits a nook encased by bookshelves brimming with all sorts of titles: most, if not all, of Dimitri's favorites are here. He settles down on the mountain of cushions inside and pulls Claude along with him without hesitation. "What... did they tell you about what happened?"

Claude takes a moment to survey Dimitri's favorite room. It's cozy, and full of books--he likes it already. He lets the prince pull him down to sit with him on the cushions and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "My grandfather just told me that your...that the king and his wife had passed away. I could tell he was keeping things from me, so I snuck into his study to read the letter myself. It said there had been an attack, but that the people responsible for their deaths had been put down and the situation was resolved."

 _Responsible? Put down?_ Dimitri almost scoffs, and probably would if he weren't feeling so distressed, still. "They weren't. I–- don't think they were, anyway. They tried to say that we were attacked by people from Duscur while we were at the border..."

Flames blaze before his eyes. It takes Dimitri some time to pull himself away, to remind himself that the air is clear, the parlor is safe—that he is far, far away from those raging fires. "Someone had set fire to our carriage. My stepmother... she threw me out of the window. To get me out. And when I..." The prince doesn't realize he isn't breathing until he's already running out of air. He sucks in a breath; this isn't the first time he's told this story over. "Everyone was dying. Burning. Fighting. They tried to say that the Duscurians did it but I know it wasn't true. I saw—"

He freezes, and goes silent.

Claude listens quietly, both concern and sympathy written plainly on his face the more Dimitri talks. Fire...that's a new one, no one's ever tried to set him on fire before. Just blades, and poison once or twice. ...fire is worse, because of all the collateral damage. But he supposes that's what it sounds like whoever did this was going for. He scowls, remembering the original letter they received from King Lambert. It was welcoming. Kind. An open hand from someone hundreds of miles away, who just wanted to greet him. Why would anyone do such a thing to a king like that?...well, he knows why. But that doesn't make it any easier to hear.

When the words stop, he reaches out tentatively to take Dimitri's hand. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me the rest. ...I'm so sorry."

"I feel like I have to." Dimitri squeezes back tightly; the beginnings of tiredness, and anxiety, are apparent in his eyes. "You... you're the first person who's listened." _And if **nobody** believes me, then what was the point in coming back at all? _"Father was killed by a sword. I saw... when they brought him out. But even if the whole carriage hadn't been on fire, and even if someone from Duscur would have been able to get that close, it was one of _ours_. It was a sword from _Faerghus_ , I _know_ that I saw it."

 _The first person who’s listened? Seriously? About something this important?_...but after a brief moment of surprise, Claude realizes it’s all too easy to believe it. How many times has _he_ tried to get people to listen, after all, to no avail? “I believe you.” He states this firmly, definitively. “The only reason no one else does is because it’s convenient for them. Either they get something out of the lie, or they refuse to challenge their own beliefs.” It’s a heavy insight for someone so young, but he learned that lesson a while ago. People believe what they want.

Claude's words... they feel horrible to accept, but Dimitri knows them to be true, once he takes a moment to consider the bigger picture. Blame it all on the... the outsiders. The ones that most of Faerghus is already uneasy towards. Dimitri seems to curl in upon himself, almost; he still clutches Claude's hand tightly to his chest. "Thank you," the prince mutters. "Thank you, Claude. For... for believing me." It feels like such a weight off of him, for someone to take his words seriously, and–- and for it to be Claude, too. His newest friend.

”...of course.” Claude hesitates for a moment, but...after the thing with the shawl, surely Dimitri wouldn’t find it weird? He scoots a little closer and carefully puts his arms around the prince, a bit unsure and ready to back off if he seems to react badly. “Now we just have to figure out how to get everyone else to believe you, too.”

Dimitri doesn't seem to mind, nor 'find it weird'—that sort of comfort is much wanted and appreciated, now, if the way that Dimitri leans against Claude is any indication. He nods, and suppresses a sniffle. "It seems... so impossible. But even if it takes years... I can't let them get away with it. Whatever they did, I won't allow it to go unpunished..."

When it becomes clear that Dimitri not only doesn’t mind but seems to appreciate the hug, Claude squeezes just a little tighter. “You don’t have to do it by yourself. I’ll help you.” In an attempt to make Dimitri smile, he adds, “Not to brag, but I _am_ notorious for coming up with clever schemes.”

It works, at least a little. For all that the prince feels nothing but tired (and a little like tearing up) he manages to smile, to laugh a little. "We can do it together," he says, idly, but then he begins to think, to consider it for real... and turns to look at Claude. "We really could. When you inherit the Alliance, and I take the throne, we– you think we could really help?"

Claude's glad to see Dimitri smile again, to hear him laugh. He pulls back a little so they can comfortably converse, but doesn't pull away entirely. "Of course we can." Now that Dimitri's brought it up, his reasons for coming to Fodlan in the first place seem to crystallize in front of his eyes. He'd had a vague notion of claiming his inheritance and making something of it to better things for outsiders like himself, but the path to get there was murky. Now, though... "That's exactly what we'll do. And after that--" ...after that, would he go back home and claim his _other_ inheritance?...that's a question he's too afraid to answer. Fortunately, he's got a good long while before he'll need to answer it. "...well, after that we can do whatever we want, because we'll be in charge. Heh."

"Mm..." With his far arm, Dimitri lifts a hand to rub at his eyes. "When you put it that way, you make it sound so easy. The Alliance, though... even if I could just make the Kingdom do whatever I wanted without anything bad happening, you'd have to get the other nobles there to agree with you, wouldn't you? Rodrigue told me about... the... table?"

Claude laughs a bit. "The Roundtable. And that's true, but I bet with my winning personality and devious plans, I can make them dance to my tune. ;)" Then he frowns in thought. "But in the meantime, we're not powerless. We can still figure out how to get people to listen to your story, even just as heirs."

That sounds far more like some unbelievable flight of fancy to Dimitri. "Claude, you don't know how much it means to me that you believed me, but... I don't know. Even Rodrigue... even he won't hear me out completely. I don't have much hope..."

Claude does pull back now, but only so he can look Dimitri squarely in the eye. "You don't need hope. You've got me."

Dimitri nearly laughs. Remarks about Claude's confidence. Nearly even nudges him, gently, with an elbow. In reality, though, he's stunned enough by the declaration that he is... speechless, for a few good moments. "You..." He blinks; the watery eyes are coming back to him in his surprise and then in his relief. Dimitri moves to hug him properly. "With you, then." Nothing more than a murmur, a whisper, in such disbelief and yet happy, too, to know that he isn't... alone in this. "As long as we stay together, we can do it."

Claude blinks in surprise to see tears welling up in Dimitri's eyes. Did he say something wrong? But no--it's his turn to get hugged, and he returns it with enthusiasm. _'As long as we stay together...'_ Could they, really? In a week he'll be going back to Derdriu, and he doubts even he can come up with a scheme to convince them in just a week. The seeds of another idea sprout in his mind, but he doesn't say anything about it yet. "Now you're talking." He lets Dimitri hug him for as long as he wants.

Dimitri takes pity on Claude eventually, when his embarrassment catches up, and when Glenn scolds him for being so... clingy. It's scary, getting used to hearing such a thing.

Claude stands, then, pulling the other boy up with him by the hand. "Come on, I want to meet your horses now."

The prince accepts that hand and stands, too, ever grateful that Claude is... far better at minding their conversations than he is, it seems. They have so much ahead of them and so little time that they can't quite afford Dimitri waxing poetic about ideals he knows to be naive.


	3. Fhirdiad: Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri introduces Claude to the wonders of life in Fhirdiad, and Claude reveals his deepest secrets to Dimitri in return.

Claude still doesn't let go of Dimitri's hand, just following the prince to make a quick stop to find warmer clothes – gloves for both of them, a lighter shawl to replace the one Dimitri offered to the other boy, an extra scarf should one of them need it – before Dimitri is leading them through the halls again and out into the grounds. Claude has wanted to meet Dimitri's horses ever since he first read about them in one of their letters--he remembers their names and what colors they are, and while horses aren't _as_ wonderful as wyverns, they're still great. Once outside, he's thankful once again for the shawl Dimitri let him borrow--it's even colder out now than it was when they arrived! Is there no end to the depths to which the temperature can sink here? But he takes care not to show any discomfort, for fear that Dimitri will want to go back inside.

Everything is all blanketed in pristine snow, still and silent and glimmering under the sun. Claude stops and takes a moment to take in the sight of the sparkling palace grounds. He saw the snow on the way in, of course, but the carriage brought them straight to the door, and he didn't really get a close look at anything in all the bustle to make a fancy entrance. "...wow. This is amazing. Look how bright it is!" He crouches down to touch the snow...and then he takes off his glove and does it again. "Gah, it's cold!" But he laughs. "And wet. I almost don't want to walk on it, it's so pretty." He puts the glove back on and keeps going.

"It's quite pretty in the mornings, when the sky is softer. The snow can be whatever color the sky is, you know." Dimitri watches him, giggles at his reaction—as used to snow as Dimitri is, Claude's reaction is nothing if not refreshing.

Claude gives Dimitri a skeptical look. "Now you're just messing with me. The snow changes color? Give me a break."

"I'm not lying! Water does the same thing, doesn't it? Snow is just water."

Claude's look shifts to the snow, now--it doesn't look much like water to him!--but he supposes Dimitri would know best. "Let me guess which horse is which when we get there, okay?"

"Oh? Putting yourself to the test?" Dimitri glances over his shoulder, and smiles at Claude; he slows his pace so that they might walk side by side, leaving him closer should something happen. He doubts the other boy has ever walked in snow or on ice before, after all.

"Ha, _I_ already know I can remember which horse is which. I just want to show _you_. ;)"

"Oh. So you're just trying to show off." Dimitri's entirely teasing, of course, still grinning from ear to ear as they approach the stables. His father's horses are still in their pens, as they pass; Dimitri's own are next, the three of them side by side by side.

Claude grins back. "Of course! What good is being great at everything if you don't show it off?"

The prince indicates the horses with arms flung wide. "Go ahead, then!"

Claude turns to look at the horses, and his grin becomes a wide smile of appreciation. "Look at them. They're lovely." First he walks up to the one as white as the snow. "Hello, Aramis. How do you do?" He reaches up to pat the horse, before moving on to the big black one. "And you must be Umbra. I wouldn't want to run into you on the opposite side of the battlefield!" He doesn't pat that one...it's a little scary. Finally, he comes to the sort of scruffy-looking brown one. "Which just leaves Phantasia. You look like a troublemaker--just like me. I bet we'd get along." He gives this one a pat too, then turns to face Dimitri. "Well? How did I do?"

As much as Dimitri would like to get onto Claude for all that confidence, all that showing off, he can only smile wider and wider the longer this charade goes on. Yes, he did indeed remember, and Dimitri never truly doubted... still, though. It warms him, yet more confirmation that those letters he sends have found a home with someone who cares for their contents. "Well, well. Not a single one wrong. I suppose you really did know what you were talking about." He steps forward, approaching Aramis with practiced ease and rubbing the bridge of his nose so gingerly. "Mm, you're probably right about that. Phantasia, I mean. She used to get in trouble for managing to get out of her pen... she likes her freedom."

"Heh...well, I guess she and I really _are_ the same." Claude comes to join Dimitri, watching him pet the horse carefully. "I thought Aramis was your favorite horse? Why are you being so cautious?"

"Not cautious. Aramis... is very used to being babied." Dimitri's hand moves steadily higher, where he can reach anyway, until his fingers stroke a careful trail along the horse's neck. "I don't know if I ever said it before, but they say he can only see out of one of his eyes. He gets scared easily because of it. So..."

"Ohhh." Claude peers first at one of the horse's eyes, then the other. "Poor guy. Do they ever go out in the snow? Or do they have to stay in here all winter?"

"Mm, they do, sometimes. I don't like to take Aramis out in it... there aren't many places to ride here except the forest. He doesn't get much exercise, but Umbra is... Umbra is too big for now. Father wouldn't–-" Dimitri very nearly chokes on his words. He takes an audible pause to readjust. "They would never let me actually ride him. Usually in winter, it's Phantasia who gets out the most."

Claude turns to study Dimitri's face when he pauses, but doesn't say anything about it. "I would ask if we could ride her...but I still want to see the city today. Could we ride her tomorrow?"

"Mm. Tomorrow is fine." They'll make a day of riding and picnicking tomorrow; today is for Claude, whatever he wishes to see, wherever he wishes to go. Dimitri moves now to lavish Umbra with some attention; in spite of the temperament he's said to have... the war horse lowers its head for his ease. "It'll take a lot of energy... and I'll probably have to ask Rodrigue, too."

Umbra seems to be responding to Dimitri just fine, but still...Claude hangs back. "I heard sometimes you can throw snow at people. Is that true?"

"Hm? Oh, of course." Dimitri moves back from Umbra and approaches Claude, crouching low and ushering for the other boy to do the same. "You can scoop it into your hands and press it real tight, and it'll stay," he answers, and pats out a snowball in his palm.

Claude hurries to join Dimitri and watches closely. "Whoa." He scoops up some snow in his own gloved hands and copies what Dimitri did, ending up with a nice round snowball, packed tight. Then he looks up at the prince with an impish grin, followed by pelting his arm with the snowball.

The moment Dimitri sees that grin, he ought to be turning tail and running. Foolishly, though, he stays put and is showered in snow once it explodes against his arm, and the prince looks at him utterly affronted. "I guess I should've seen that coming, huh?" He still holds his snowball in hand; though he very easily could, he doesn't seem intent on throwing it and returning the favor. "Using my trust against me, how cruel of you..." He isn't going about this entirely as a pacifist, however...

Claude's grin only broadens, and he gets ready to dodge Dimitri's snowball...but the snowball never comes. Instead, without warning the prince bends down and scoops up an armful of loose snow, and proceeds to dump it over his head and shoulders with a laugh. "GAH!" Claude blinks for a moment, taken totally off-guard, and then bursts out laughing. "You had a little ball right there in your hand! What was that for?"

"Believe you me, Claude, if I threw this it would probably hurt you." Dimitri's mentioned before the numerous things he's broken without meaning to, now that they have him starting a traditional Blaiddyd training regimen...

"Oh, right." Claude tries to imagine what that would be like. Would he break his bow if he tried to draw it? Maybe he would have to get a bow made out of something sturdier. He brushes his hand vigorously through his hair, watching the snow fall out of it with a wondering smile. "It's softer than I thought it would be."

"Mm, it is. And if you manage to find clean snow..." Dimitri pulls off a glove, dips a hand shallowly into a patch of untouched snow... and scoops a fingerful onto his tongue, where it vanishes in seconds.

"You _eat_ it?" Claude immediately pulls off one of his own gloves again so he can try it. "Huh, I guess it really _is_ water. I wonder what would happen if you put something else in it, though..."

"I mean, you _can_ eat it. You have to be very careful, though, and make sure that it's clean. But what do you mean by something else...?"

"You know, like..." Claude thinks about it. "Lemon juice and sugar, maybe. So it's like lemonade, but, lemon snow."

"Hmm. It probably doesn't get warm enough here for people to usually do it, but my stepmother does that. We just take ice, though. Cut it until it kind of feels like snow. Usually they'll do things like... like berry juice."

Claude quirks an eyebrow. "That seems like a lot of work, cutting ice, when you have all this snow right here." He gestures.

"Maybe... but there are so many animals here that are out in the winter that it's worth it if you don't get snow they've walked on. Or... used the bathroom on. It's obvious to tell, but it also just melts when you pour in the flavors and stuff."

"Oh." Claude looks at the snow as though it personally offended him. "Okay, let's go into the city now." He brushes the rest of the snow off his shoulders as best he can.

The prince doesn't hide his laugh. "It would be yellow if an animal did, Claude. Don't worry so much about it." He helps Claude without hesitation, brushing the snow from his shoulders and hair before standing, and holding his hand out once again. "We can go into the city, then."

Claude takes the hand and lets Dimitri lead the way, wherever they're going. All the while, his eyes roam over everything--the snow, the trees (pine trees! he's heard of them but never seen one), the rest of the palace grounds. He's back to asking questions as they go--what happens to everything that gets buried under the snow all winter? do whole lakes really turn to ice? what happens to the fish in there? what's the difference between snow and ice? Endless.

Dimitri still takes easily to his questioning (it just stays there, sometimes it freezes and thaws again in spring). As much as he loves his home, he's never considered Faerghus to be a very interesting place (they can, and sometimes the fish freeze, but in the south sometimes it's just the surface, and you look down and can see fish swimming under you!). It's a little invigorating, to know Claude is so curious about it all (ice is just... hard snow, isn't it? Snow is like frozen rain, and ice is like frozen normal water, but it's all technically the same thing...).

They're still chattering by the time they've descended the slope and approach the town gates. Dimitri's people are used to seeing him wander about, and he does get his usual waves and calls and greetings; he's being more observant, now, wondering, daring anyone to say a thing about the boy whose hand he clutches. Nothing comes, so far. "There are the inns, and closer to the square there's the markets, and the vendor and the food stalls—what do you want to see, Claude?"

Every answer Dimitri gives just seems to prompt more questions, but once they hit the town gates, Claude's attention is drawn to what’s beyond them. He’s seen Almyra’s biggest cities and the Alliance’s diverse towns, but this is the first Faerghan town he’ll see, and beyond that it’s Dimitri’s home that he’s read about in the letters...he can’t wait. “Let’s go to the stalls first, I want to try all the street food.” He’ll have no appetite left for the fancy formal dinner they’re to have later, but he doesn’t care.

"That's a good idea. It'll help keep you warm too." Dimitri, too, thinks briefly of the pseudo-banquet they'll be having tonight, in honor of their guests, and decides that it can't hurt if they have only a little bit, that even if Claude isn't tired from the trip, no doubt he'll be at least a little hungry from it. The first little cart they come to, Dimitri recognizes immediately, and his face lights up—he tugs on Claude's arm to point. "Look, this—this one is what they call a carvery. They have all sorts of meats, and you can get aaaall of it that you want." Pork and duck and pheasant and sausage... he doesn't actually know how much Claude likes meat, but he's hoping that it's more than nothing. "The best thing, though, is all the different sauces..."

”Let’s try them all!” Claude's the one doing the tugging now, making a beeline for the cart while still clutching Dimitri’s hand.

"Ah, Claude-–! Alright, alright!" The prince is laughing, though, by the time they reach that stand and its bewildered owner comes to recognize him by the pin on his breast. Dimitri lets Claude go first, of course, pointing out each item by name for him, telling him how they're cooked, what the sauces taste like—he ends up eventually with a plate full of a little of everything, and drowned in a sweet cranberry sauce... Oh, the dinner they've planned at the palace will be nice, indeed, but could it compare to this?

Once they're both settled (and Dimitri has compensated the man both for their food and putting up with them) the prince leads Claude off to the side, to a slightly more off-path section of the street where they can perch on the low stone wall to eat their food. "Mm, best eat up before the snow gets in it--"

Claude sits down next to Dimitri and takes a moment to decide where to begin, before digging in. "Which one is your favorite?"

"Pheasant is always good with this sauce... it's all so good though, that I can't really pick. We eat a lot of meat and stuff here, but the carveries are some of the few places that cook everything perfect." Dimitri hums his contentment when he downs another forkful, cheeks warm and lips curled. "Aaah, so good~"

Claude hunts for the pheasant and tries that first. "You're right, that's really good." Then he starts trying everything one at a time; he soon decides that though he likes the sauce, too much of it makes it too sweet, so he starts scraping some off the meat with his fork before he eats each piece. By the time the plate is empty, he's sighing in contentment. "Everything was amazing. But my favorite was the first one, the pheasant."

"Mine too." Dimitri doesn't know how they'll have much room for anything else, but... it's never as hard to eat dessert as it is to eat more normal food, right?

"I thought you couldn't pick? ;)"

Dimitri rolls his eyes and then stands, stretches, and casts a look around the market in an attempt to refamiliarize himself with its changed layout. "Do you still want more to eat? Or do you want to look at the market?"

Claude stands too, drawing his cloak close again, and follows Dimitri's gaze around the market. Their talk about the glass deer reminded him that he's meant to send the prince a gift in return, but he never found anything that seemed good enough. Maybe here, he'll find something. "Let's look at the market."

The market it is, then. Dimitri takes his hand once more and leads him, rushing through the throng until they near the square, and the crowd disperses into pockets of patrons lingering near the stalls. Their wares vary greatly—weapons, jewelry, enchanted accessories, and then the more benign, stalls dedicated purely to toys, flowers, food and medicinal herbs... Dimitri recognizes the little shop where he commissioned Claude's deer, too.

Claude slips through the crowds easily, like he has experience doing so, following after Dimitri even as he tries to see everything there is to see on the way. Once they get to the market proper, he wants to stop at every stall and look at what’s there. Eventually, they come to a wood carver’s cart, and an idea occurs to him. It’s..a dangerous idea, maybe, but... He turns to Dimitri. “This is supposed to be a surprise, so wait for me over there by that flower stall, okay?”

At first, the idea of separating makes Dimitri... anxious. He drifts back to earlier, to finding Claude in the hallway outside of the kitchens, quiet, downtrodden-- "A-alright." Despite himself, he listens and moves to the stall, and tries to distract himself with the blooms on display. Every once in a while, he'll glance over his shoulder, just a brief moment to be certain that the other boy is still alright...

As soon as Dimitri is out of earshot, Claude turns to the carver and explains his request. At first, she gives him that look--the one he's used to, the one that says, _do you really belong here?_ But he turns on the charm, exploiting the cute face and quick wit he knows can appease adults when they're strangers if he does it just right, and in a few minutes she's working on his order with a smile and chatting casually with him. He notes with a slight pang that what really does it, in the end, is when he tells her who he is here in Fodlan--heir to House Riegan of the Alliance. She seems to relax then, so he sticks with that topic as she carves away, telling her all about Derdriu.

For Dimitri, the wait is painstaking. How long must he stand here? What is it that Claude is doing over there, really—should... should he go over there? Could something be happening that he isn't even aware of? He's being silly, he knows it, and likely even unbearable, but can he be blamed? It's only after Dimitri has felt so guilty about the poor bunch of daisies that he's already wrung his hands around (and paid for, to account for his ruining them) that Claude returns and nearly startles him out of his skin. Claude carries a cloth sack wrapped around something in both hands, running back to where Dimitri waits. "Okay! It's done!"

"T-there you are! What did you...?"

Claude holds out the bundle for Dimitri to take, with a broad, anticipatory smile. "It's for you--whoa, what happened to those flowers?"

Dimitri purses his lips when he regards the poor flowers in his grasp. The petals are untouched by his brutish hands, though the pressure against their stems has them sticking out at all sorts of odd angles... "I... was looking at them. And. Ruined them... so I bought them." But then he registers what Claude said, and wide blue eyes move to the bundle he holds. "For... m-me?"

"Yeah! It's a gift. And look, they're not ruined--" Claude hands Dimitri the bundle and takes the daisies in exchange. He picks one out and gauges the length of the stem for a moment, then pinches it until the crushed bottom part falls away and the flower itself has only a short stem now. It's just long enough that when he reaches up to tuck the flower into Dimitri's hair behind his ear, it stays there. "See? They're fine."

 _Oh. That. Oh._ Dimitri stands in silence, mouth agape, cheeks pink; his silly face has attracted a gaze or two, though, so he doesn't have much time to process what that just was before he's scrambling to change the subject. "Claude, I-– your... your friendship is enough, you needn't have gotten me..." But he's undoubtedly curious, eyeing that bundle. Can... can he go ahead and open it?

For a second, Claude thinks, _is Dimitri about to cry or something? Did I do something wrong?_ But then the prince says... _that_ , and he thinks his face must be as pink as the other boy’s now. "Not here, I want to...hmm." He looks around, scanning the area for someplace a little more private. Ultimately, the best place turns out to be where they ate all that meat not long ago, so this time it's him leading Dimitri back through the crowd to sit on that low wall again.

Dimitri thinks he must look a sight, the Prince of Faerghus scrambling dumbly through the street in an embarrassed daze. He's glad for Claude taking the lead, though he can't think of much of anything outside of the way Claude clutches at his hand...

"Okay, _now_ you can open it," says Claude, once they've come to rest on the wall again. It's with great care that Dimitri unwraps that bundle, balanced carefully in his lap. Inside is a young wyvern carved from wood, its wings spread, each the size of his hand. Its head is antlered and proud. Dimitri is so, so careful, holding this gift. His touch is light, feathery, when he brushes a finger along the back of a wing, when he lifts it slightly to look at it better, to admire that stern gaze and prideful stance.

“This is...” Claude pauses, nervous. “...I want to tell you a secret. My grandfather told me not to tell anyone, but I bet he didn’t mean you.” He most certainly did, but Claude doesn’t care. He wants to tell Dimitri anyway.

Dimitri turns to Claude immediately, once he starts to speak. _A secret? So serious that he's been told not to... tell_ anyone? Dimitri scoots closer, as if it could matter with how near they already sit, and his expression grows almost comedically solemn. "I promise, it stays with me and only me."

Claude knew he could count on Dimitri to take this seriously. He leans even closer, knowing he’ll get in big trouble if they’re overheard. “I’m not really from Leicester. My mother is, and I _am_ the heir to House Riegan, but...” His gaze drops to the wooden carving, thinking maybe if Khalilah were here, he’d feel a little braver about this. But he’s started, now, so he might as well finish - and he really does want Dimitri to know. “I grew up in Almyra. And this—“ He pets the wooden wyvern’s head a little. “Is my best friend, Khalilah. She’s like Aramis is for you. And she’s white, too!...they didn’t paint this one though. And I wanted it to be wood instead of glass so...it wouldn’t be so easy for you to accidentally break.” Though seeing how careful the prince is being with it, he’s not sure how much of a difference it makes?...wow, he must be _really_ strong.

Almyra. Dimitri's heard much of Duscur, naturally, though not much of most other places outside of Fodlan—he knows it as the country on the other side of the Throat, the people constantly at war with the Alliance. There's a brief flash of pink hair in his memory: he's met one of the Gonerils before, even if he doesn't remember much of it. "Almyra?" The realization doesn't seem to hit him until the name crosses his lips, and his eyes widen. Were he not so carefully holding onto that wyvern, he probably would have taken Claude's shoulders in his hands. "Really? What-– what's it like there?" And then his eyes move back to the wyvern, which he lifts again, eyes burning with curiosity. "Khalilah... I've never seen a white wyvern before! Claude... wow."

Claude blinks, not sure what to make of Dimitri's reaction. He thinks it's a _good_ thing? And he wants to know more? Claude doesn't realize he's staring wide-eyed at Dimitri for a good five whole seconds. But soon, his urge to impress the other boy takes over. "They're really rare! In Almyra, they're bred specifically for the--" He suddenly cuts himself off by shutting his mouth and clenching his jaw. He didn't mean to bring _this_ up...but if anybody would understand, it would be Dimitri, right? "The. Um." He coughs a little. "The royal family."

"Oh. Oh!" It doesn't take Dimitri long to pick up on the implication, nor on the... need for subtlety. He nods, and forcefully tempers the excitement on his face. "I understand. But, Claude, this means..." This is a lot to think about, so much to consider. More than anything, though, it puts their conversations from earlier into an entirely different light. "This means that we can go past Fodlan," he says, and manages, for all of the emotions welling up in him, to keep his voice quiet. When he sets the carving aside to take up Claude's hands, there's hope in his eyes. "Do you know what we could do?" _Peace, during which the likes of things like Duscur won't happen. During which Claude need not wonder if he'll be accepted._ He's... these thoughts swarming him are choking him up.

Claude clutches Dimitri's hands tightly and nods, but with some hesitation. He isn't even sure he plans to go back to Almyra at all. But...how can he not, now that he's seen this look on Dimitri's face? Someday...after he inherits the dukedom...his nod becomes firmer, his expression more sure. "We could do _anything_." Anything. He really believes they could, the two of them. When he first left home, his only thought was to escape, to get away from the scorn and shame and danger to a place where no one knew him. Now, though...the future is soft clay in their hands, and for the first time, he feels like his position between worlds could be a boon instead of a curse. He furiously blinks back tears; he can't let Dimitri see them.

"I want to tell you all about my home, but there's still a lot left to see." _And a lot of people around._ "So I'll tell you when we get back to the palace, okay?"

 _Yes. Yes, he's-–_ Claude is right, and Dimitri is getting ahead of himself. The prince nods and does his best to clear those thoughts out, or at least put them aside for later. He takes the wyvern carving back into his hands and bundles it up carefully into its cloth. "Right, right. There's still the rest of the market..."

The rest of that day--and, indeed, the rest of the week--is a blur of new experiences and long conversations. Claude learns to ice skate and insists on practicing with Dimitri at least a little every day he's there. They go riding, and Claude learns that his suspicion that he and Phantasia were cut from the same cloth proves true--the horse seems to like him. Claude daydreams about what they might do someday when they become kings of their respective homelands and change everything for the better, and tells Dimitri all about those dreams. He tells Dimitri all about Almyra, too, but mostly focuses on what's good about it; no sense in worrying the prince over what it'll be like for him if... _when_...he returns. He wonders if it's possible to lead the Alliance and Almyra both at once?...or whether it's possible to dissolve the border between them entirely and rule them as one country? The possibilities seem endless, if they're together.


	4. Fhirdiad: Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude puts his scheme into motion to help Dimitri recover from his grief--and spend more time with him, which is no coincidence at all.

By the time the final day of the Riegans' visit has come, Claude's already told Dimitri about his plan to convince his grandfather to let them bring him with them when they leave. It'll be up to the prince to convince his uncle and Duke Fraldarius, but Claude's assured him that he'll be there to help. So it is that, as the staff pack up their things and load them onto the carriage, he's talking quietly to his grandfather about how Dimitri's still in mourning and if he stays here, he'll be so sad, with everything around him a reminder of his loss. He needs time away, and it's not like he's inheriting immediately anyway--his uncle will handle things until he comes of age, so surely coming to stay in the Alliance for a while can only be good for him? He can continue his studies and his training like always, alongside Claude. Right?

It takes less doing than he expected--at least, on Duke Riegan's part. His grandfather agrees, as long as Dimitri's guardians are okay with it. So now Claude waits, pacing around the audience chamber impatiently, for the prince to arrive.

To Dimitri, even after a week, it feels as if they haven't had enough time. Every moment they're together is a moment that his ghosts are quieter, he notices early on. It's selfish, maybe, that he's enjoying himself so greatly that the guilt can't reach him when Claude hugs close to Phantasia's mane, and when Claude manages to skate across the pond to him on his own, and when Claude—

Well, Dimitri thinks, and straightens the cravat at his neck, that's why they're doing this, isn't it? Not only did they not wish to separate but Dimitri, too, needs this; when Claude first mentioned that staying some time in Derdriu might help to clear his mind, help him find control over and sense among his emotions, he didn't quite understand. Faerghus has always been cold, though, and for the first time in the young prince's life, he sees the hostility inherent in it. His home, the palace, is a place of expectations and duty that he cannot handle. Not yet.

He breathes deep when he departs his uncle's company, remembering vividly the words of the King Regent and His Majesty's Shield, right up until he comes face-to-face with Claude. He nearly forgets for a second, but then he smiles, to see that anticipation in his movements, the way he crosses the room so deep in thought. "Claude?" comes his soft call, and Dimitri wanders to him.

Claude looks up at the call, and rushes over to meet Dimitri halfway. "Well? What did he say?" He's not sure what to do if the answer was no. Grab the prince and run? Convince Duke Riegan to let him stay here instead? (Very unlikely.) ...just go back alone? None of them sound like acceptable options.

"Claude, I'm going to need your help." When the other ~~prince~~ boy nears, Dimitri reaches for his hands—it's instinct, now, automatic.

Claude's heart sinks. Was Dimitri unable to convince them? For all that he said he'd help, he's not entirely certain what he can really do...he grasps those hands like he's afraid Dimitri will vanish in an instant.

But before Claude can say anything, Dimitri's face breaks into a toothy grin. "I have so much I need to pack, and you and your grandfather are set to leave in merely a day!"

Claude blinks, and then his own grin matches the prince's; he lets go only to fling his arms around Dimitri, laughing with relief. "Sheesh, don't scare me like that!"

"I'm sorry!" Dimitri doesn't seem it, the way his laugh rises to twinkle and mingle with Claude's, nor in the way that when his own arms wrap around the other boy, he lifts him bodily from the ground, even spins with him in his arms. Dimitri is careful in setting him down, though doesn't think to let go of him, not for a second.

"Whoa!" The spinning is unexpected, but it's fun! prompting more laughter, and a little astonishment at the blatant display of the strength Claude knew Dimitri possessed but still hadn't seen in action until now. And even this, he knows, is nothing compared to what he _could_ do...

"I'm excited," Dimitri nearly whispers now, "I–-I dreaded this day, thinking that we would have to part."

"Well, now there's no need for dread," Claude replies just as quietly. "And I'll get to show you everything in Derdriu now. _And_ we'll get to train together."

"Yes, yes—I'm very excited to see the Alliance, too. I've never gotten to go... the closest that I've been has been visiting Ingrid in Galatea, right at the border." Seeing Claude's home is a prospect that makes Dimitri feel both eager and incredibly nervous. Duke Riegan has been kind to him, understanding enough of his circumstances, but still, to suddenly... _be_ there, for a part of Claude's usual life? A thought that intimidates him, somehow. "You said... I won't _really_ melt there, will I?"

"Of course not! Not unless you're literally made of ice, and I'm pretty sure I would have noticed by now if that were true." _Galatea...that sounds familiar...oh yeah, it's the house that split from House Daphnel._ Claude remembers Ingrid from the letters. But the mention of her reminds him... He draws back a little to look at Dimitri, a little more serious now, with a sudden dread of his own creeping into the pit of his stomach. "But...are you sure you want to leave your friends? Ingrid and Sylvain and Felix...you wrote about them all the time."

"It isn't as if I'm never returning to Faerghus..." Dimitri will admit, the prospect of leaving his friends behind for so long – he's been given permission for an entire year, the objective of which will be posed to his uncle's advisors as a sort of educational exchange – but... must he be afraid? When compared even to his oldest childhood friends, there are so many things about him that none understand as well as Claude does. He squeezes Claude's hands in his own. "I'll miss them, certainly. But I can write to them. And those guys—good thing or no, they're chained to me. They'll probably have more of me in the future than they've ever wanted." Self-deprecating as it is, he still smiles. "I'll be glad to spend this time with you, Claude."

Claude's face relaxes into a smile again, as he tries not to think about the fact that suddenly a year doesn't sound like a very long time at all compared to friends Dimitri's going to have forever. It isn't that he envies them--he'd like to meet them, someday--but only that when Dimitri goes back to Faerghus, he'll be left alone again. "I'm glad too. And maybe next time I'm here, I could meet them." If they're as kind and open-minded as the prince, anyway. He doesn't want to find out that Dimitri's best friends hate him. He'd rather be alone than that.

"Mm, yes, you'll have to." Dimitri can't even feel guilty for having monopolized Claude's time as he had the entire visit. He shifts his hold on Claude and now, hand-in-hand, begins to lead him on that familiar path to his bedroom. "I still can't quite believe he said yes, if I'm honest. Uncle has me on such a strict training regimen that I would've thought he would wish to keep me here for it..." Per Uncle Rufus' terms, Rodrigue is to accompany him for the duration of his stay, or at least for as much of it as he can without horribly impeding his responsibilities in the Kingdom, though some of Dimitri's usual retinue will be traveling with him, too, in the likely event Rodrigue will have to return to Faerghus early... even these thoughts can't dampen his mood.

Claude follows along as usual; it no longer seems new or strange that Dimitri always takes his hand whenever they go anywhere, though at first it was a curiosity to him. “You only wrote about it a little. What’s so special about your training?”

"Oh, I've really never told you?" By the time that they enter Dimitri's rooms, there are already a few of their house attendants going through his belongings, collecting clothes from his wardrobe for the trip. The prince barely blinks. "I've been on break for Duke Riegan's visit, but usually in the daytime, there's an array of boulders in the training yard for me. I'll lift those to warm up, and then there are these barrels–- filled with rocks, for me to carry around the perimeter of the lake. Mm, and sometimes when it's warm enough at night, I'll go running through the mountains in armor with Rodrigue—"

The more Dimitri talks, the further Claude's jaw drops. He can't be serious, right? But the prince is usually pretty serious...nah. "Ha, you got me for a second there."

And... that has Dimitri giving a slow raise of his brows. "I... don't follow?"

 _Wait...he_ was _being serious?_ "That can't be _true_ , right? You...were joking?"

"I wasn't joking at all." _Oh, that... explains it._ Dimitri realizes, not quite for the first time this past week, that Claude is perhaps the first person he's become close with that hasn't known the natural strength of his line by default. "The Blaiddyd family are all given this strength, partly related to our Crest. The process of building it in this way... is also to serve as a means of introducing control. Helping us to temper ourselves, and to be more delicate with it. I was being quite serious, Claude."

Claude stares at Dimitri, trying to imagine it. It's...hard. "...wow. I mean, I knew your Crest made you strong, but...wow." That certainly must open up some options for him, huh. Still, from what he's said about accidentally breaking things, it doesn't sound _fun_. "You must be really good at it. But it must be awful to have to be so careful all the time."

"Ah, well..." Awful, maybe, but it isn't as if Dimitri's not used to it. A burden he was born with, inescapable—and ironic, that someone as strong could be so weak where it matters most. The prince hums, and moves about rifling through drawers and bookshelves, collecting up the books and other garments he wishes to bring. "It simply... is. A Fraldarius will bear a sword. A Gautier will bear the lance. A Blaiddyd will have their strength. It's yet another tool I have to be the strongest king that I can be."

Claude frowns a bit. He doesn't like the sound of that, but he supposes Dimitri is right. _You can't help what your Crest does, can you?_ "I guess so. House Riegan doesn't really do special Crest training like that, but that would be pretty difficult anyway, ha." And back home, he would have said if there weren't staff here, almost no one even knew about his Crest, and the few who did mostly didn't care. "But what if you didn't want to train like that? What if you wanted to...study magic, or something?"

"Hm... well, I'm certain that I most likely could. The point behind the training, though, is to help keep me from... I don't know. Breaking every glass that I hold, I suppose?" Even if Dimitri weren't brain-dead when it came to the finer arts of magic, he thinks that his father would've been understanding... maybe not Uncle Rufus. Rodrigue, though... that's actually giving Dimitri a little to think about. "Even if I preferred magic, I would at least have to be tutored in the lance, as it is. I know that it sounds like a great deal, but it isn't so bad—and then, when I'm older, I'll be able to lend my strength to not just Faerghus, but to Duke Riegan, too." To unknowing ears, it may sound like meaningless flattery for the sake of diplomacy. The look that he gives Claude, though, says all that's necessary: there is only one Duke Riegan he considers, even if that part of their futures isn't so certain.

Claude nods with a smile. "I'm sure Duke Riegan will greatly appreciate it, Your Highness. ;)" He takes a seat on --well, he's about to sit on the bed, but one of the attendants gives him a _look_ , so he sits on a chair near the door instead. "And once I'm finished with all _my_ training, I can fly to Faerghus and help out the king whenever he needs it."

"I'll be counting on it." Dimitri pauses, arms buried in his bag, in the process of stuffing his lighter tunics into it—and beams at Claude so brightly, happy to have thoughts of their future to help his packing fly by.


	5. Derdriu: Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude gets to watch Dimitri's reaction to seeing Derdriu for the first time. Dimitri's easy way of fitting in even here in Derdriu makes Claude feel even more out of place than usual, but once they're away from prying eyes, both of them feel more at home. As Dimitri thinks to himself: It's just the two of them--things don't need to be elaborate or complicated or unnecessary. They aren't princes to each other.

The whole of the trip has Dimitri vibrating with the force of his nerves. He's doing his best to keep a level head, what with Duke Fraldarius sitting across from him; if Rodrigue's presence wasn't enough to remind him of formality, though, then Claude's beside him might have been enough to help keep him calm. Maybe it's just the temperature, the way he feels the air steadily shifting, the change in scenery as they move further south... It's Dimitri's turn, now, to bother Claude with questions, though they come fewer and farther between. The idea of a new environment for an entire year is...

He leans back over to Claude, though instead of speaking first, he gives the other boy's sleeve a tug. "Rodrigue says that we're nearing... is there any last-minute advice you can think of? Anything to keep me from embarrassing myself?"

The trip back from Faerghus for Claude is much more pleasant than the trip there, although it seems to take forever, with the adults so closeby. But he has Dimitri’s questions to keep him occupied, and all the plans he has for what they’ll do when they arrive, and finally as they start getting close he turns at the prince’s sleeve-tugging. “You’ll be fine, trust me. You’re much better than me at all that noble etiquette stuff. Everybody in Derdriu will love you.”

"You sound so confident..." If only Dimitri himself could be so sure. Still, though, he reminds himself that this is... what's best, perhaps. What he needs. His instruction will continue, his horizons will broaden–- oh, now he's just rattling off the things that Rodrigue said to convince Uncle Rufus. "... oh! Is that it, there?" He snaps out of his thoughts to see... yes, this must be it. Subtle hills give way to a city that looks so vast, bathed in sun and standing stark against the twinkling sea behind it. Dimitri gasps. "This is Derdriu?"

Claude grins, watching Dimitri's face as the city comes into view. This is the moment he's been waiting for the whole trip, and it doesn't disappoint. "Yep, this is it! Look--" He points. "If you squint you can see the canals from here, too. They look like shiny ribbons in the sun, weaving through the whole city. And I can take you to the bay, and the beach, and we can ride a gondola...there's stuff to do that's not on the water, too, I swear." _And we have a whole year._ His heart keeps flip-flopping in his chest, indecisive about whether it feels like forever or no time at all. But, he supposes, best to just make sure that every moment of it lives up to the plans he's made in his mind.

Faerghus is all tight streets and close buildings, so to see the sea itself routed through and under roadways, and to see even from here so much color—Derdriu is full of life in a way so different from Fhirdiad. "Everything," Dimitri murmurs, and his grip on Claude's sleeve seems to tighten a little in his excitement. "I want to see everything..."

Claude laughs to hear his own insistence echoed back to him. “Of course! Looks like the tables have really turned, huh? ;)” He joins Dimitri in watching the view as they approach. He had much the same reaction to the canals when he first got here a few years ago - the impossibility of them, the way they make the whole city sparkle - and even now he never gets tired of seeing them. He fidgets in his impatience; he wants to get there _now_ so he can start dragging Dimitri everywhere and show him everything.

Soon, the carriage enters the city proper and they’re on the last leg of their trip: through the heart of Derdriu to the Riegan estate that sits on a tall hill just on the outskirts. People recognize the duke’s carriage by the Riegan sigil it bears and wave to them as they pass, and Claude waves back with a grin. The city might not like _him_ , but he likes _it_ anyway.

Dimitri lapses into an uncharacteristic silence. He is, in reality, so dead set on absorbing everything around him, seeing everything there is to see about Derdriu that he can't think to keep up idle conversation. From where he peers out, people watch, stare, some even wave... the little prince of Faerghus, though clearly shy, does manage to wave back once or twice by the time they've passed through the town proper and progress further. The Riegan estate looms nearer and nearer, the more that the smaller houses around grow thinner and thinner. "Is it always so nice here?" He sticks his head just slightly through the window to look straight up, at the light clouds and blue skies above them, and wonders how it could really look so different from Faerghus' gloomy clouds always overhead.

Claude's glad to see Dimitri warming up (no pun intended) to the attention as they go along, and it’s hard not to just open the carriage door and jump out to start their adventure right away. He refrains, though, mostly just because of the eyes of the adults on them; if it was only his grandfather he’d consider it anyway, but he doesn’t really know Rodrigue and doesn’t want to make him angry. What if he changed his mind and took Dimitri back to the Kingdom? Better to behave while he’s around. “Not always,” he replies, leaning against the prince a bit to peer past him out the window too. “Sometimes storms come in from over the water and you can see the lightning from everywhere. And the thunder sounds like it’s right in your ear - BOOM!”

"AH!" Dimitri jumps and very narrowly avoids hitting his head against the window, but when he turns to Claude, he's just barely managing to hold on to that indignant expression of his; there's good humor in his eyes that makes his expression seem far softer than he means it to be. "So, don't go outside when it's storming... got it." He can't even keep pretending to be in a bad mood, not as they approach the estate and his excitement, and those nerves, are soaring again.

Claude laughs, falling back against the seat again. “No way, you _definitely_ want to go outside when it’s storming.”

That sounds like a lie, but Dimitri can never really tell with Claude... "What... will we do first?"

Claude considers the question as the carriage pulls up in front of the estate and the servants starts unloading the luggage. “Well, I thought we’d start by walking inside, and then probably you’ll get announced, and you’ll have to sit through some boring introductions... ;)” He knows he’s having a little too much fun, but he can’t help it. He feels like his mind is buzzing. He’s not sure he’s anticipated anything this much since the day he got his wyvern egg.

The prince casts a furtive glance out across the plains, and very nearly startles when the carriage door is opened for him. "I--I know _that_ , I meant... the first thing we would do once we've finished with formalities." He understands now where the other boy might've been when he first traveled to Fhirdiad, a little tired from the journey but wired with energy all the same... maybe just a tour for today, then.

Claude giggles and pats Dimitri on the shoulder. “I’m just teasing. I thought I’d give you the grand tour first and then...whatever you want! You left it up to me the first day in Fhirdiad, so now it’s time for me to return the favor.” He can’t wipe the smile off his face. Teasing Dimitri in person never gets old. Just _being_ with him in person never gets old. He’d like to skip the formalities altogether, just grab Dimitri’s hand and run to all the things he wants to show him, but with a sigh Claude follows his grandfather inside instead and endures all the rigmarole, trying not to get antsy.

 _Oh. Kidding._ That... that's probably more of a relief than it ought to be. Dimitri manages to muster a smile for him, and quietly lulls himself back into breathing easily, getting his thoughts back in order... He follows dutifully, very much used by now to this sort of decorum; he's quick, too, with all the time they've spent together, to notice Claude's restlessness. It isn't much, with so many eyes on him, but Dimitri is nothing if not persistent, and so if his words are lighter, if there might be the occasional innocent lie or joke-played-seriously as they're paraded around the estate... Rodrigue doesn't say anything.

It's the longest hour-and-change Claude can remember experiencing in a while. Fodlani nobility is so much stuffier than what he's used to. If this were his father's court, they'd be feasting already by now, with musical accompaniment and everything. Dimitri's demonstrating just how right Claude was when he said the other boy was better at this whole etiquette thing, and he's glad _someone_ is; having the Faerghan prince there to easily mimic instead of having to remember every little nuance off the top of his head while he's so distracted helps more than he could really express. Especially with Rodrigue still here, still watching. The man's been nothing but polite to Claude all this time, but he still can't help feeling like those eyes are full of vigilant judgment; like the smallest mistake on Claude's part could send him packing Dimitri's bags for him in an instant...

Dimitri isn't sure how long it takes before they're finally given room to breathe, but once they finally have a moment of privacy, he's holding in a sigh and fiddling with the cravat at his neck as he looks to Claude. He rests a careful hand on Claude's own. "Hanging in there...?"

Claude grasps that hand like it's a lifeline, although what he says aloud is, "Yeah, I'm fine." _Thanks to you, anyway._ "I think everybody's impressed with you! Which they should be. _I_ am."

Claude always seems so full of praise for him, though where it seems patronizing when coming from the adults of Dimitri's household, coming from Claude... he ducks away to hide the red of his cheeks and shakes his head. "It's nothing so impressive, mostly-- habit, by now. If I hadn't been drilled in this since I was small, you would probably really see how nervous I am." And of course he is, how couldn't he be? Awfully, selfishly, Dimitri finds himself briefly glad that Claude's parents cannot logically be here, because otherwise he would probably pass out from that sort of pressure...

And yet, despite Dimitri's admission that he's nervous, he still has the wherewithal and the compassion to check on Claude. Claude wants to argue, to get his friend to accept that he's impressive, but the place and time aren't right.

"I think... if you have someplace we could hide, now would be the time." The prince manages to catch Rodrigue's eye (the protector, in reality, hasn't once looked away from the prince). A raise of Dimitri's brow, a subtle tilt of the head, begets a nod from Felix's father. _Right. Be careful, keep your dagger close, watch out for suspicious individuals._

"Hide?" Claude follows Dimitri's gaze surreptitiously, carefully seeming like he's just glancing casually around, and notes the little exchange wordlessly. "Right. Let's go." He refrains from taking Dimitri's hand until they've left the adults behind and are well on their way through the manor's tall corridors.

Once he does, he picks up the pace, too. Halfway down the wide main hall, though, he realizes...maybe he's being a terrible host? He tries to remember what Dimitri did when he first got to Fhirdiad. "Oh--do you want to stop at the kitchens? Are you hungry? Or do you want to change your clothes, or wash up, or--?" He doesn't ever have visitors, not like this. He's met a few of the other noble kids around his age when their parents come for Roundtable conferences and other diplomatic meetings, but they don't...stay. They just have meals together with the household and then they leave.

Even after they've managed to slip away together, Claude still seems so... nervous. Dimitri squeezes Claude's hand in his, a quiet reassurance. "We can go to the kitchens," he says, hoping that his decisiveness might be of help, somehow, a way of bringing Claude back down into the moment. It's just the two of them--things don't need to be elaborate or complicated or unnecessary. They aren't princes to each other.

"If it's okay for me to change, I can do that, and then we can go to the kitchens to get something to eat. Does that sound agreeable?"

It's funny, Claude thinks--he wasn't expecting to feel somehow _less_ at home with Dimitri here. He was expecting this to be relatively easy. He thought it would be just like taking his time in Fhirdiad, which was...the best time he can remember having in a long time...and transporting it back into his usual routine. But so far, it isn't like that. ...he wasn't expecting Dimitri to seem like he belongs here more than Claude does.

But that's not the prince's fault, and he certainly hasn't done anything wrong. Claude nods, a bit relieved to let Dimitri just decide things, clinging to his hand like he never intends to let go. He can't screw up a decision he isn't making, after all. "Of course it's okay. Here--I'll show you where your room is. They must be finished putting all your stuff in there by now."

They make their way through the halls and up a grand sweeping staircase to the third floor, where first he stops to show Dimitri his own room: a spacious thing with several huge windows, one of which he's given a makeshift window seat by dragging a table over to sit directly in front of the sill and covering it with blankets and pillows. Stacks of books and papers and random accoutrements suiting the many hobbies he's always trying his hand at would be strewn over every surface, if he'd been here for the past week; as it stands, the staff have piled everything neatly in out-of-the-way places around the room. They've never quite known what to do with all of Claude's clutter, and he gets an earful from one or the other of them all the time about it. ...and he's heard them whisper their rumored reasons for why they think he's so messy when they believe he's not around, but he doesn't need to think about that right now.

"This is my room. And yours is right down the hall!"

Seeing Claude's room for the first time is something... overwhelming. It hits Dimitri immediately, the moment he enters, that this is probably where most of their time together has come from--that Claude has probably sat in this room for most if not all of their conversations, sat here to pen those long letters they've sent one another for years. It very nearly makes him choke up, though the prince has managed to find a place to tuck those feelings away by the time that Claude is bringing him over to the window. His eyes wander across that endless expanse of plains and ocean mingling before him, ethereal as a painting...

Inside this room it's much easier to recover the feeling of just...being Claude, and not having to worry about whether it's appropriate to call the prince by name or whether someone is going to judge the way he's standing or eating or...whatever. Especially seeing the look on Dimitri's face as they cross to the window. And indeed, sitting on the makeshift window seat there's a pile of blank parchment, a stoppered inkwell, and two quills. There's also a thick leather parchment case with a bunch of rolled-up sheafs inside--all of Dimitri's letters, carefully tucked away in there. Claude watches Dimitri take in the view with a grin.

"Ah, our rooms will be closer here?" Dimitri brightens at that, though the note of wistfulness in his voice still lingers; he sounds far away, almost, still trapped in the notion that he could be here at all, torn between reality and thinking that nothing outside of this room could exist... he snaps himself back quickly and turns to Claude with bright eyes. "That one night, when I went to show you the nighttime clouds, you said that Derdriu has stars out at night. Do you think... we could see those tonight, too?"

Claude gives him an enthusiastic nod. "Of course! Stargazing is one of my favorite things. We can go out to the meadow out back or even--" He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "Climb up on the roof, if we don't get caught." It was actually a pretty big disappointment, that week in Fhirdiad, never seeing the stars come out. The clouds at night were pretty too, especially when the moon was bright and made the dark branches of trees stand out against the layers of cloud cover...but it wasn't the same.

"On the roof?" Of course Claude would find such a dangerous way to enjoy the stars. "Mm, I don't know how well I do with heights..."

"Well, how about we try it, and if you hate it then we'll come back down? Don't worry, though--I won't let you fall."

"A--alright. I trust you." He doesn't know how well that would go, Claude trying to hold his weight if he were to go toppling over the side, but--but it's the thought that counts, and it actually does help Dimitri to feel a little better. He manages to smile a little wider. The clouds above are light and wispy, drifting lightly on the wind; far below, the long grass and flowers sway in time with the breeze, nearly hypnotic. It will take him some time, certainly, to adjust, because he's never stayed outside of Faerghus before and everything here is new, and different, almost scary in how unfamiliar it all seems... if he has Claude here to hold his hand through it, though, he doubts it could ever be as bad as it may sound. "Would it be... can we stay here, for a little while?"

Claude sits on the window seat and clears away the parchment and supplies to make room for Dimitri to sit, too. "Sure. ...do you like it here?" For all that the prince was a solid, reassuring presence just minutes ago out in the hall, he seems a little distant now--uncertain, maybe. Claude hopes it isn't because he regrets having come. Maybe it was selfish of Claude to make this plan, to pull Dimitri away from his home just to have him by his side. Not everyone is like him, he reminds himself--most kids haven't already uprooted their lives and left their homelands behind before they're even old enough to come of age. He suddenly isn't so sure his scheme was a good one...

The question manages to catch the prince off guard, a little. "I almost don't know what to think yet... there's so much of it that feels the same as Faerghus, and then there are other things that feel completely different. Every time I look out the window, it almost surprises me to remember that I'm somewhere else..."

Claude lets out a quiet, relieved breath, sitting back against the pillows and looking out the window himself as he pulls his legs up onto the seat and rests his arms on his knees. So it was just that things are different. That's not so bad. Hearing the prince say ‘I trust you’ a moment ago might have seemed like a small thing to someone else, but it made Claude feel more at home than he has all day. He’s glad Dimitri suggested this little respite. “I still sometimes feel like that, too. Almyra has port cities, but everything’s more open and spread out, and we don’t have canals like they do here. ...I mean, like _we_ do here.”

Dimitri doesn't miss Claude's blunder, and for some time, he debates how... appropriate it'd be to bring it up. They're spoken a few times about Claude's heritage by this point, and he would hope Claude knows that Dimitri understands, that he doesn't think differently of him, or anything of the sort--Claude is Claude. "I would imagine it's far warmer there, isn't it? You never seem to break a sweat, ever." The prince moves just slightly closer, aware that even in the privacy of the other boy's rooms there's always the possibility, even if slight... that they aren't truly alone. "I do hope I'll get to go someday. To see the place you call your home..."

Claude looks from the view back to Dimitri, eyes widening. “You...want to visit Almyra?” He tries to imagine it...but the thought of exposing his friend to the awful things they’ll say about him there is already upsetting him, though he tries not to show it in the face of Dimitri’s rare genuine interest in his homeland. He covers it with a laugh. “Yeah, it’s warmer there. There, maybe you really _would_ melt. ;)” He nudges the prince with his elbow to show he’s just kidding.

"Ah, I probably would..." Dimitri manages to spread himself out across Claude's makeshift window seat, enough to look thoroughly defeated. "I would melt, and you'd have to scoop me into a bucket just to carry me around. I don't know if you could deal with the effort, Claude; I doubt that I'd be any lighter all melted."

Claude's laugh this time is sincere. “You underestimate me, Your Princely Puddleness! I would come up with the perfect scheme to lug you all over the city with me without tiring at all.”

Dimitri giggles, but then sobers up just slightly, and allows his eyes to dance across the subtle patterns on Claude's ceiling. "Of course I want to visit your home. Why wouldn't I?"

Claude wonders how much he should say. He could just shrug it off, but...if Dimitri really does visit Almyra someday, he should know what to expect, right? “Well...everybody else in Fodlan thinks it’s...I mean, _they_ wouldn’t want to go there. And if you did, everybody there would...” He scowls, hugging his knees a little tighter. “Everybody would call you a coward, or try to goad you into a fight, or laugh at you, or...whatever.”

"Everyone else in Fodlan thinks that Duscur, too, is either too dangerous or too slovenly to entertain. I suppose that only goes to show the value of a noble opinion." Dimitri's smile manages to linger, but he stiffens and the eyes that watch the ceiling grow distant. "There is... little others can say of me that would bother me, anymore. They may think what they want; should I manage to prove them wrong, eventually, then... so be it, I suppose." His eyes are on Claude, suddenly. "As Fodlan is a part of you, so is Almyra—and that means I wish to see it, to experience it for myself."

Every time Claude hears Dimitri talk like this, like he not only accepts Claude as he is but wants to know more, like he doesn’t think of anyone as an outsider or make assumptions about people not like himself, he feels like he might never be able to let the prince go back to Faerghus without him. He meets Dimitri’s gaze, and his scowl disappears, melting into a small, grateful smile. “That’s...I’m happy to hear you say that. I could show you all _kinds_ of things.” A pause. “And I wouldn’t let them say those things about you.” His brows draw low. “No matter what. Nobody should ever have to feel like that."

"And I the same for you." Dimitri sits up now, fully serious; as always, as has become natural between them, he reaches out to hold Claude's hand in his own, and squeezes it. "I'd like to see anyone try anything, say anything, about you when I'm around," he says, with such a sternness uncommon of the prince that one might get whiplash.

Claude accepts Dimitri's hand just as readily as always and looks at him with poorly hidden gratitude, bordering on admiration. He's not as surprised as he might otherwise have been at the sudden shift in demeanor, as he remembers the raw anger he saw in the prince back in Fhirdiad, sitting outside the kitchens together...sometimes, every once in a while, Dimitri seems _different_. Like something possesses him, almost, or like there's another Dimitri in there that Claude rarely sees. It reminds him of Nader, that other Dimitri--a strong, unbending, almost warlike boy, ready to fight for justice...fight in defense of his friends. That must be the Dimitri who trains with barrels of rocks, he thinks, and he resolves to figure it out; to understand why there are two, and to get to know the other one as well as he feels like he knows this one.

Dimitri interrupts his thoughts, after a moment: "And--I mean it! I would love to see Almyra, someday. With you."

Claude's smile widens and it's his turn to squeeze the other boy's hand. "Definitely. I'll take you there. And then--why stop there? We could go anywhere, see anything. We could visit Brigid, and Sreng, and Morfis, and Dagda...we could fly around the whole world."

Travelling the world, seeing everything, meeting everyone... seeing what all lies beyond Fodlan--and with Claude beside him, Claude to stay with him and comfort him and be his friend. It sounds too good to be true and it is, a part of Dimitri serves to remind him with no shortage of urgency. He can't and shouldn't get his hopes up, knowing as he does that it could never happen. He belongs here in Fodlan; his duties will see that he stays in Fodlan; his loyalty will assure that he dies here, in Fodlan. Dimitri acknowledges none of this with more than a passing mental recognition, far more content to live in this dream for a little while, a dream where responsibility can't, _won't_ , keep them apart.

"The whole world is quite big, Claude, isn't it? Won't that take a long time?" It comes out almost as a whisper: as disbelieving as he sounds by his words, there's enthusiasm in his eyes, not the excitable sort but a slow and deep contentment the thought brings him.

"It's _huge_." Claude's green eyes sparkle with the thought of seeing it all with Dimitri by his side. He's always wanted to travel the world someday, but he assumed he would be doing it alone--who would go with him?--and that assumption made the idea bittersweet. Now, though...now he has Dimitri. "We wouldn't do it all at once, of course. We'll take--" He adopts a haughty-sounding accent. "Diplomatic journeys to visit sovereigns of foreign nations." Then he chuckles. "Or, you know. Vacations." That look in the prince's eyes, though...he studies it curiously. Dimitri definitely likes the idea. So why does he sound so incredulous? "...let me guess. Kings in Faerghus don't make diplomatic journeys outside Fodlan, do they?"

 _Diplomatic journeys, right._ It makes Dimitri chuckle, accent and all, though that note of sobriety never quite seems to leave him. "Well... you aren't wrong. Not much exists outside of Faerghus, you would think, from the kinds of things I'm told... the kinds of things my people believe. What my forebears believed." Some days, he wants nothing more than to distance himself from all of it. The prejudice, the unerring pride in their isolationism, in 'tradition.' Dimitri yearns for a bright future for his people, but sees nothing but regression in his prospects as king. When he moves himself to face the window properly again, he's shoulder-to-shoulder with Claude. "I don't want to be that way, though. I want Fodlan and the countries around it to be allies, to have relationships, but... why even stop there? There's... so much more out there."

Claude nods, sobering a bit himself. "The Alliance isn't so different. They like to say they're less hidebound and more fair than the Kingdom or the Empire, but they're not interested in the outside world either. Just like back home." _But Dimitri is different._ "We'll be different kinds of kings. You'll see."

"You truly believe that... we can change it?" But Dimitri thinks Claude wouldn't entertain these thoughts with him if he didn't. He knows by now that the other boy doesn't really like coddling, nor is he usually afraid to speak his true mind... how long, how many years has he spent wondering if it made him odd, if anyone else could harbor these dreams like his?

"I truly believe that. ...as long as we do it together." Claude stopped expressing his dreams to other people a while ago, after they laughed at him and told him he was weak for thinking Almyra needed allies; told him he would be the Coward King when he grew up, not a great warrior king like his father. When he cautiously tried to tell his grandfather, hinting vaguely at his hopes for the future, the duke only warned him not to lose sight of the "important business" of leading the Alliance and protecting the Fodlan border. So Dimitri is the only one he's shared this with in a long time...and the only person to ever actually want to help. He sits quietly beside the prince for a moment, watching the sunlight play over the waves in the distance. "So...why don't _you_ believe the things your forebears did?"

Dimitri doesn't know how to answer that question at first without delving too deeply into things. But is anything too deep when it's Claude he's speaking to? "Maybe I would have, had I not seen what I did in Duscur." It still feels just as hard to go back to that day, but he feels safer with no one but Claude at his side. "They tried to save me. Have I told you? They were reaching for me when I was in the carriage. It-it was a boy. Maybe... around our age."

Claude turns away from the window to sit facing Dimitri again, taking both his hands. "You didn't tell me. What happened?"

"When I was still in the carriage, I... was stuck." Maybe it's because Claude is so nearby, pressed close enough to help keep him in the present, that the ashes in his mouth don't taste so severe. "It was before the fire started, I think. But he pulled me out--a boy from Duscur who was a little taller than me. I don't know what happened to him, if he..."

He needs to keep himself from getting choked up. Dimitri's voice lowers to a whisper, as always when he broaches the subject of Duscur. "They were trying to help us, Claude. I'm certain of it. They were killed right alongside father and stepmother. And for what? So that they could... be implicated, even after they were already dead? But, anyway, I... it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter where someone came from, they can still be good or bad for reasons completely unrelated. I always knew, but I don't think that I _knew_ until... that day." By the time he's finished, his chin has ended up on Claude's shoulder. He isn't certain exactly when it happened.

Claude listens quietly, trying not to imagine the horror of all this all over again--the fire and the fighting and the death and being stuck in an overturned carriage...he's not sure how, or even if, he would have coped with what Dimitri's been through. He keeps his grip on the prince's hands steady and firm, and feels a certain helpless anger mounting inside him at whoever these people were who blamed innocent bystanders who were trying to help for their own crimes and then went on to blame their whole country. The fact that they can get away with it...it's not a surprise to him, but it only serves to cement his despair that there's anywhere where things are truly different.

When Dimitri stops talking, he reaches out with no hesitation this time to pull the other boy into a tight hug. "...I know I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again, but...I'm sorry. We're going to get them, Dimitri. We'll find out who it was and make this right. I promise." He doesn't voice his other thought--that even Dimitri, the kindest, most selfless person he knows, didn't truly understand until a tragedy like this. And he doesn't blame the prince for that. It's the way the world is. A child can't learn what he isn't taught, either by his elders or his experiences.

"You're probably the only person who understands me." Dimitri's arms find Claude and readily return that embrace, squeezing him, burying his face against the other boy's shoulder—he wasn't so affected this time, compared to how he usually feels when he remembers that day, but as always that heavy feeling in the pit of his gut won't leave, no matter how much he tries to remind himself that he's in Derdriu. He isn't burning. "You, ah... we'll have to find time for it. For... travelling, I mean. Seeing the world. I-- even if it isn't the kind of thing a King of Faerghus would do, it's something _I_ want to do with you."

Claude holds onto Dimitri for a little while, partially to comfort him, but partially for himself, too. _The only person to understand you?_ "Heh...I was just thinking the same thing. You're the only one who's ever thought my dream was...worthwhile. ...I want to travel with you, too. I always thought I'd do it by myself, but...I want you to come with me."

Dimitri ought to know better by now than to be surprised. But still, he smiles in spite of his shock, and nods along. "Your dream is a worthy one, Claude. One that I can be proud to say... I share in it."

Claude doesn't know what to say to that, so he just tries to express his feelings through the hug instead.


	6. Derdriu: Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude shows Dimitri more of the estate and some new snacks, and a weird bug. They make plans to attend the Officers' Academy together, talk about Edelgard, and make a few promises.

Claude lets go of Dimitri eventually, here on the window seat in his room, though he immediately takes the prince's hand again. He hops down and tugs to pull Dimitri up too. "Come on, I want to show you your room now. I told them to make everything blue for you, so I hope they did it."

Dimitri totally forgot about his own rooms, and so by the time he's being pulled down from the window, the prince lets out a soft 'oh!' "I wonder if they've brought my things up yet? I forgot I was supposed to be changing..."

Claude laughs, leading Dimitri to the door at a jog but then at a normal walking pace when they get into the hall (otherwise someone will chastise them). "I'd be surprised if they didn't, we were doing those introductions for _ever_." It's only two doors down when he stops again and pushes open another door, leading into a room similar to his own but a little smaller, and much less cluttered. As requested, everything is draped in royal Faerghan blue, from the soft bedspread to the plush carpet and the wispy curtains. The window looks out over the same view Claude's did, although there's no seat at this one...not that Claude's room had one originally, either. Dimitri's luggage is indeed here, although not much has been unpacked yet. There is also a large lion stuffy sitting on the bed, as though it owns the place.

It really _is_ blue, and as much as Dimitri thinks to mention his appreciation to Claude, he spots the stuffy sitting on his bed, staring at him with cute, beady button eyes... and the prince lets out a soft little sound. "They really did!" He has to beat down some rising sense of anxiety in his chest, but only really succeeds once he notices that the bag in particular that's crossed his thoughts, a small and plain sack sat on his desk, seems to have been otherwise untouched. The prince lets out a silent breath in his relief. "It's really nice... but I still hope that I won't be spending much time in here." They have plans, after all, and a lot of things they want to do together; they don't have time for Dimitri sitting around in his room and doing nothing!

"In that case, hurry up and change and then meet me in my room. And then we get to see what they have in the kitchens today. Not to spoil the surprise, but whatever it is probably has a lot of tomatoes in it. Or cheese. Or garlic. Or all three." Claude finally lets go of Dimitri's hand so he can run--no no, walk...fast--back down the hall to his room and change quickly out of his own traveling clothes into something more lightweight and comfortable--well, as comfortable as noble fashions in Fodlan get. But it's too warm here for the clothes they were wearing when they left Faerghus, that's for sure!

Once he's done that, he digs a hand under the mattress to pull out a small but thick leather-bound notebook. He takes it to the window seat and opens it to the first blank page so he can write in it. He has a lot of things to write about--the trip from Fhirdiad, and all the things he and Dimitri talked about in the carriage, and how Dimitri helped him remember all the etiquette things he was supposed to do, and everything else he's done with Dimitri over the last week. He started this journal originally as a kind of travelogue when he left home, but soon it became the place where he practiced his Fodlani script and conversational language by writing about everything that happened each day. He's spoken the language since he was a child and had little trouble perfecting it to the point where he doesn't have a recognizable accent, but he has to make sure he can flawlessly write it, too. During the time when he was exchanging letters all the time with Dimitri he'd sort of slacked off on the journal, figuring he was getting in his practice--and his opportunity to ramble on about his life--that way. Now, though, Dimitri is here, and so now he gets to write _about_ him instead of _to_ him.

Once the door is closed and the prince has his privacy, he very nearly breaks something in his attempt to change quickly. In hindsight it was probably an awful idea to rush himself so, and his poor clothes very nearly end up torn when he first moves to take off his shirt... By the time he's dressed down in his simpler, lighter clothes, he's pacing himself far more normally. "Are you ready, Claude?" comes his soft call from the other side of the door, once he's finished.

Claude barely has time to write more than a paragraph by the time Dimitri comes to find him, and he chuckles to himself as he jumps down from the window seat again. "Just one second..." He carefully stows the journal back under the mattress and then hurries to open the door. "Ready! Let's go." Dimitri has just finished tying his hair back into some sloppy semblance of a ponytail by the time the door comes flying open, and he smiles.

Claude grabs Dimitri's hand and closes his door behind him before heading back down the stairs and toward the back of the manor where the kitchens are. He seems much more at ease now than he did when they first got here, and on the way to their destination he keeps stopping to show Dimitri every room and painting and window view they pass, with a running litany of explanations like "this is my grandfather's study, technically I'm not allowed in there but it has the softest chair in the whole manor" and "you can't see it but under this window there's a little garden where you can find those weird bugs that curl up into balls in your hand" and anything else that occurs to him to say.

Dimitri readily follows Claude as their little tour of the estate begins (why aren't you allowed? Father allowed me in his study sometimes, though Uncle Rufus won't.) Everything in Derdriu seems so much brighter somehow, more vivid; if the beauty of Faerghus is understated and cool, then the Alliance's is vibrant and colorful and... loud. A good loud. (Weird bugs? I don't think I've ever seen them before! We don't have very many in Fhirdiad.)

"He says that room is 'for the Duke' and I'll be allowed to go in there when I'm older." Claude rolls his eyes. "It's just because he doesn't want me to read all his correspondences, I think. ...and probably he thinks I'll ruin all his fancy furniture or something, who knows." Duke Riegan is never mean to him, but he keeps his distance, and it's hard to say exactly what he thinks of Claude even now. He doesn't like to talk about his daughter or her husband, or to hear about Claude's own past, really. The boy suspects his grandfather would rather pretend none of that ever happened and he just magically has an heir that's appeared out of thin air. "I'll show you the bugs when we go outside! I'm used to _way_ more bugs even than there are here." He keeps that vague enough.

"Ah. I... see?" Dimitri's Uncle Rufus is much the same way, he supposes, although the prince knows it most certainly is because he believes Dimitri will break all of his father's old belongings that linger in the office he appropriated. The mention of there being even more bugs in Almyra is... simultaneously creepy and oddly fascinating.

By the time they reach the kitchens, the prince is much more subdued, seeming to absorb it all with something more akin to a quiet awe. "What is... the food normally like?"

Claude notices the change in Dimitri's demeanor as they arrive in the bustling kitchens, where cooks and cleaners work tirelessly as they chatter with each other and sing snippets of songs, but he doesn't ask about it. "Rich and heavy," wry. "I like it, though." He pulls the other boy along with him as he fearlessly and shamelessly barges into the kitchen without warning. The staff seem to be used to this.

The kitchens here, too, are different from in Faerghus—the royal kitchens of Fhirdiad, and those of Dimitri's friends' households he suspects, are usually filled with nothing but yelling for dinner and soft whispers during breakfast. Dimitri, as has become automatic for him since having met Claude in person, takes to cataloging these interactions, putting personalities to faces.

The staff watch the two go by with a mix of reactions ranging from friendly waves and greetings to confusion to mistrust. One chef warns them--no, warns Claude specifically--that if he takes anything meant for tonight's dinner, he'll regret it. Never mind that Claude's never done that once since he arrived here. He gives the chef a flippant response instead of defending himself and moves on, but Dimitri's grip on his hand tightens so frighteningly that the prince feels the need to whisper a curt, desperate apology after they've found some distance from the man. _Ow, ow_ \- Claude can hardly believe how hard it’s possible for Dimitri to squeeze his hand! He does a pretty good job of hiding his surprise (and, he’ll admit to himself but not out loud, discomfort) until the moment passes, though even then he doesn’t let go. He whispers a "don’t worry about it" at the apology; he knows Dimitri didn’t do it on purpose and there was no harm done. Well, no lasting harm. He’s fine. He never wants to make the prince feel the kind of guilt he saw on the boy’s face when he crushed those daisies.

Soon, they reach a little icebox where, he explains, they keep the leftovers from earlier in the day, and _these_ he's allowed to eat. He examines the shelves for a moment, eventually fishing out two rolled up pastries filled with sweet cheese and a pomegranate. "I bet they don't have these in Faerghus," he says with a grin, handing one of the pastries to Dimitri.

There's no small sense of wonder in Dimitri's eyes, at the food Claude presents him. "We don't," he confirms with a nod, enthusiastic, and accepts his offerings. Testingly, he bites into the pastry first... and the expression of pure, childlike joy on his face is really quite comical. "I can taste--" _No. Try again._ "There's cheese in this?"

Claude grins with anticipation, watching the prince try the pastry, and then his grin grows wider to see his reaction. “Yeah! It’s a kind of sweet cheese that comes from Ordelia territory. ...I forget what it’s called,” a bit abashed. “Wait til you see what’s inside the pomegranate!” He fetches a knife before leading Dimitri out of the kitchens and through the staff door at the back of the manor into a garden filled with vegetables and herbs. He finds a place for them to sit and cuts the pomegranate in half to show the prince the little seed-fruits that fill it.

Dimitri's more than content to munch away on his pastry while he waits, and fortunately doesn't quite choke when Claude splits open the pomegranate. He makes some strangled gasping noise when he sees it, meant to be his amazement but stifled by the pastry still in his mouth. "That's-- what _are_ those?" He almost wants to reach out and prod at them--

Seeing Dimitri half-reach out to touch the seeds, Claude hands over the fruit half. “They’re seeds, but they’re the fruit, too. These are pomegranates. You can pull these out and eat them.” He demonstrates, yanking out a few from the other half and munching them.

 _Seeds but also the fruit..._ For a second, Dimitri looks at Claude as if he doesn't believe a word of it. He does, though, because it is Claude telling him this, and so the prince takes that offered fruit, cautiously picks out a single seed and places it on his tongue... "It tastes so subtle."

Claude looks up from his own fruit with a quizzical look. “Really? I’ve never heard anybody say that before, they’re so tart.”

"Oh. Well, I don't know if it's tart." The prince takes another, furtive, bite into a seed. This is probably the closest he's come to being forthcoming about his issue.

”You don’t know?” Claude cocks his head a little, watching Dimitri pick at the seeds like a bird. “What do you mean? You don’t like it? If not it’s okay, I can find you something else.”

"No! It's fine." Dimitri's waving stained fingers at Claude now, hoping he'll understand. He contemplates. "I can't actually-- um. Can we go. Elsewhere? For a moment?" He doesn't feel alright mentioning it around so many people, as there are gardeners and cooks and such about...

 _Oh, there’s something wrong. What could it be?_ “Yeah, of course.” Claude looks at the things he’s carrying, filling both hands, and then shrugs and stuffs half the pastry into his mouth to carry it in his teeth so he can take Dimitri’s hand. He leads them farther to a secluded area under a tree out in the orchard behind the manor, sitting down in the grass and then putting his pomegranate half down so he can bite through the pastry properly and chew. “What’s the matter?”

The longer they walk, the easier it gets to be, for Dimitri; over time it feels like he can be no more nervous in Claude's presence than he would be in Lambert's. In Edelgard's. The prince sits and a sigh of relief leaves his shoulders slumping. "Ever since then, I haven't been able to taste anything." The prince is rolling a few of those pomegranate seeds around in the palm of his hand, before popping them into his mouth. "Except a few things. The really strong things, sometimes, I can taste them faintly. Everything else is-–" Ash. Crumbling on his tongue, warm enough to burn and vanishing just as quickly as he tries to eat it. Dimitri swallows. "... Rodrigue doesn't want me telling anyone." And so of course he would tell Claude.

Claude's face falls in dismay for a moment. “Oh...” _Ever since then_ \- he knows, of course, what Dimitri means. _That’s terrible..._ But then the wheels are turning again, as always. “Well, where I’m from, all the flavors are a lot stronger than here. I bet if you ate food from there you would be able to taste it. I’ll try to make some for you!”

Dimitri perks up at that, both amazed and... after a second, horrified. "Wait, but wouldn't--" _Volume, Dimitri,_ scolds his father. The prince lowers his voice accordingly. "Isn't that... what if someone...?" _If the food is really so different would it be noticeable? Would someone find out?_

Claude shakes his head firmly. “We’ll do it when no one is around. Nobody will find out _either_ of our secrets.” He ponders, idly taking another bite of his pastry. “I wonder if I could find any ghost peppers in the market...”

"Ghost peppers?" Worrying, yes, but... intriguing. Faerghus isn't one for spices in very many dishes, but Dimitri's come to know that such foods are of the few he can consistently taste... something.

”Well, I’m...not sure if I’m translating that right.” Claude swallows his bite and grins. “But they’re the spiciest thing I’ve ever eaten. Even in—back there, people challenge each other to see who can keep eating things with ghost pepper sauce before they can’t take it anymore. I bet you could taste it!”

"It sounds scary when you put it that way, but..." And Dimitri smiles, and nods, and takes another bite into his pastry. He can even discern a faint sweetness... "If it's okay with you, I'd like that. Thank you, Claude. You always... go out of your way for me."

Claude wonders how Dimitri can even stand to eat anything, if he can’t taste it. But he supposes he’d have to get used to it. “Of course! You, uh...” He scratches the back of his head, at a little of a loss. “You accept me, and that’s... not a lot of people do. So I guess...” He shrugs, not really knowing how to finish the sentence without sounding sappy.

Dimitri takes a long, solemn moment, setting his food carefully aside, wiping his hands on his trousers (he'll get an earful over it later, sure, but...) and then scoots closer. Close enough that when he leans over, he can wrap Claude into a tight hug, a quick one so that he can keep eating. "You're my friend. You'll always be. I don't think there's anything that could change that."

 _How can Dimitri be like this?_ No one has ever said anything like that to Claude before. Maybe the gods of fate saw fit to deliver the prince to him...he returns the hug as best he can without dropping anything or getting any food on Dimitri’s nice jacket, tempted to just drop everything anyway except the other boy pulls away pretty quickly. “Um...thanks. Heh. I’m really glad you’re here.”

"As am I." That cheeky, toothy grin of his makes a return when Dimitri pulls away, though is quick to morph into something more subdued... a little sad. "It's a little hard. I'll have to go back to Faerghus and then... who knows." But after a few moments of moping in silence, he sits upright, startled. "Ah, but-- I'm sorry! It isn't so bad. We have a whole year... and even after that, who's to say that we can't have more trips? Maybe we won't be travelling the world just yet, but there's still so much of Fodlan we can see together, too! If--you want."

There’s that flicker of dread again, mirrored in Claude's own gut, the feeling that a year is so fleeting. But it’s brief, gone in a moment, and he doesn’t show it to Dimitri at all. “I definitely want to! The trip to Fhirdiad from here doesn't take that long as the crow flies - well, the wyvern - so it won’t be so hard. We could visit Enbarr and the Gloucester rose gardens—as long as we don’t have to talk to their heir, ugh—and...Fodlan’s Locket, maybe...” _Maybe not._ “Maybe even Garreg Mach monastery right in the middle.”

Dimitri nods along eagerly, cataloging his suggestions (and wondering if the heir of Gloucester is really that bad) as he finishes off his pastry. "Oh, yes, the monastery... Rodrigue has mentioned that he intends to send me there, when I come of age. As far as I'm aware, all four of us will be attending--Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, and myself... have you considered going, Claude?"

”Hm. To the Officers’ Academy?” Claude licks sweet cheese and pomegranate juice from his fingers. “My grandfather hasn’t mentioned it, but he doesn’t always tell me ahead of time what he has in mind.” He thinks about it. “If I’m going to lead the Alliance - assuming I make it that far, haha - I should learn how to fight like you do in Fodlan. I can’t exactly do it the way I was taught at home. Nobody uses bows in the air here.”

"Why not?" There's a moment of nothing but dead silence, before Dimitri is stumbling and backpedaling. "I--I mean I. I know why. But... I don't know. Maybe--maybe you won't have to hinder yourself just so that you can... stay hidden. Can you imagine the advantage that you would have?" Of course, battle seems to be one of few things that will excite the prince at every mention, now. His eyes are practically aglow as he looks at Claude. "That really does sound... amazing."

”Well...I don’t have to imagine the advantage. I’ve studied it. And seen it.” Claude puts the fruit down in the grass and sits back against the tree. “My combat instructor took me with him once to a skirmish with Alliance soldiers near the border. Not to fight, just to watch.” He seems a bit pensive. “It’s weird to think I might have met some of those soldiers now, over here.”

The change in Claude's demeanor doesn't go unnoticed, by any means. Dimitri knows he's no good at providing comfort but... "Does that... bother you?"

 _Does it?_ Claude's not even sure. "A little, I guess. Not that we fought them, but...that just by stepping over an invisible line and calling myself by my mother's family name, I went from a hated enemy to their ally and future leader. It seems so stupid. So arbitrary."

"It doesn't _seem_ , it... kind of is." His scale may not be as grand as Claude's; when Dimitri hears of borders and walls and divisions, outside of the obvious Duscur, he think of the Empire and, too, of the Alliance. Fodlan was united at some point. Just like the continent as a whole was united, too, with those connected with it... "Well... that's just. Another type of thought we'll have to change someday. Right?"

Claude smiles, picking his pomegranate half back up again and popping a few seeds into his mouth. "Exactly. And in the meantime, you're right. I _should_ go to the Academy. With you."

"Y-yes, yes. We'll have to coordinate, as best we can, so we can make sure that we'll be in the same class. We only get a year, after all, but... I feel it will be time wasted if you aren't there with me."

"Don't worry--if you tell me when you're going with Sylvain and everyone, I'll make sure I go at the same time." Claude cocks his head a bit, considering. "But isn't the Academy split up by where you're from?" _Like everything else..._

"I-- suppose it is, technically, _but_. My family has been going every generation, and not all have been in the Blue Lions--uh, the Kingdom's class. If you aren't a house leader, I think you're allowed to transfer, sometimes..." That admittance makes Dimitri's shoulders slump a little. "I guess, if we go at the same time, we probably would be, hm?"

"Oh, yeah...because the house leaders are supposed to be the students from each place with the highest status, right?" Claude looks disappointed for a moment, but then he shrugs. "Well, that just means we'll be competing! That'll be fun, too."

"I-I don't think I _want_ to compete with you..." _Must everything be a competition?_ Competing with Claude... the prince stifles a sigh and leans back against the tree too. "You could likely beat me in everything outside of physical strength, Claude."

"That's not true. If we had a cheese-eating competition, you would _definitely_ beat me. ;)" Claude nudges Dimitri with an elbow to make sure the prince knows he's just kidding. "Anyway, it's mostly for learning how to fight and lead armies anyway, isn't it? And you're good at that stuff."

"Well... studying tactics is one thing. Every time I think about my maiden battle... it's a little horrifying." And not made any less so with the significance that Faerghus traditions place upon one's first battle, either. "... I am better at the ledgers anyway."

”Oh, you mean like math? See, there are plenty of things you’re good at that aren’t strength! Also ice skating, and riding horses.”

"Well... yes, actually, but. Outside of helping Uncle Rufus calculate figures, math and ice skating probably won't be much use in battle, will they?" Dimitri's feeling better enough to be teasing, it seems, by the time he's answering; wry as it is, his lips have curled into another smile.

"They could be," Claude muses, making a game now of tossing pomegranate seeds into the air and catching them in his mouth. "What if you fight on the ice? Or you have to split up your forces in a complicated way and keep track of every soldier on the fly?"

"Eh? I suppose. Faerghan soldiers aren't much for fancy tactics, though. We're kind of..." A hand wave, because Dimitri can't describe it outside of saying-- "... forward. Brute strength, overwhelming the enemy. Facing them head on, with honor, and all." 

"Just because you _have_ all that strength, doesn't mean you can't use it in subtler ways. I'd rather survive to fight another day than die with honor. ...but it's just two different ways of doing things, that's all," Claude adds, a little hastily--he didn't mean to insult Faerghan culture, he just...well...doesn't want Dimitri to die in battle when a less straightforward strategy could have saved him. He hums a bit in thought. “I’m good at tactics, but not so good at fighting up close. I guess it _is_ a shame we’ll be competing, because we’d make a great team. Heh, maybe we can _pretend_ to compete but secretly work together.”

"And how do you propose that we secretly work together when we're competing?"

"Well, there's a third house, right? For the Empire? So we'll make a plan ahead of time to both work against them while we only make a little show of fighting each other. And then...well, then I guess we'd have to figure out how to fight to a stalemate so we can both win." Claude holds a seed up, poised to toss it in Dimitri's direction, for him to catch. "Ready?" He grins.

"That..." Dimitri hears her in his mind, her harsh scolding and haughty tone, and very nearly winces. "You sound very sure we would win against her. I don't know that I could be so confident..." He looks to Claude, brows raised and, though hesitant... nods... kind of?

"With your strength and my 'fancy tactics' together, I bet we could beat anyone! Even...whoever you're talking about. Her?" Claude tosses the seed!

Dimitri struggles, and very nearly ends up with an eye full of pomegranate seed... but he actually manages to catch it in his mouth. "Yes!" Claude cheers, laughing.

"Mm-- I meant Edelgard. She, ah..." The prince is suddenly very conscious of their surroundings, again. "She's the princess of Adrestia? We. Grew up together, briefly. That part, you shouldn't tell anyone..."

"Edelgard," Claude says, as though testing out the name. "I won't tell anyone. Why is that a secret, though?"

"I-- we... Edelgard is my stepsister, you see. I didn't know until after she left, but her mother is my stepmother. Edelgard herself spent a year in Fhirdiad with me... I thought we'd grown quite close. But it isn't really common knowledge, so--" Well. Dimitri trusts Claude to know the importance of secrets, after everything. "Just between the two of us."

Claude nods. "Of course. Ha, she spent a year with you in Fhirdiad and now you're spending a year with me in Derdriu. To complete the circle, I'll have to spend a year with her in Enbarr!" He grins.

"Hah. Have fun with that. Edelgard is very strict and really quite... mean, when she wishes to be." Dimitri doesn't think he's ever been scolded so much in his life as he was in her presence... _by_ her.

Claude grows thoughtful. "Wow, so I guess that makes the Empire and the Kingdom allies by marriage. Although if nobody knows about it, that's not a very effective alliance, is it? Anyway, I hope that doesn't mean you won't team up with me in secret to take her down in mock battles at the Academy! Hearing about how strict and mean she is only makes me want us to team up to beat her _more_."

"This is something else you'll have to be a little quiet about, but... she and her uncle were really in the Kingdom because, at the time, they had been exiled. I don't know if it's something that could ever come to light, really-–and we probably shouldn't be doing _anything_ like that in secret, Claude!" At the very least, though, he's laughing as he says it, and even moves to elbow the other boy lightly.

Claude smirks. "Oh, does that mean you'd prefer to gang up on her openly? Brazen of you, Your Princeliness, but I could be persuaded. ;)"

"W-wait...!" _That's most certainly not what I said!_ The prince splutters back into silence, pouting just slightly over the last of his pomegranate.

Claude laughs. "Relax! I'm just teasing you."

"Claude, really, if anything... I would like to think that competition between... us... even if I don't like the sound of it, couldn't we both benefit from it? Being matched against one another with how different our tactics are? More than working together, we could come to help one another grow on the battlefield, like that. Don't you think?"

Claude nods, pulling the last few seeds out of his own fruit and popping them into his mouth. "Yeah, that's a good way to look at it. See? It won't be so bad that we're not in the same class. Everything is an opportunity to learn."

"I..." Hesitant as he is to say it, for fear of sounding... well, annoying, or needy, Dimitri manages to find his voice again. "I don't take that to say though that you'll leave me be. I would still expect us to be friends regardless of house allegiances, I hope you know that."

Claude looks at Dimitri with some surprise. "Of course! Why wouldn't we be? I don't know that much about the Academy, but I don't think we'll be expected to compete in _everything_. Just mock battles and maybe, I don't know, grades or something. Back home, friends compete with each other all the time." _Not that I really had any. But it's the thought that counts._ "It's like you said before. We're always going to be friends, and nothing will ever change that. And if the Academy expects anything else, too bad."

To think it is one thing, but to hear it straight from Claude is... it's an assurance Dimitri didn't know he needed. As if he really needed yet another affirmation from the other boy that nothing would come between them. It helps, though. It soothes worries he didn't know he still had. His smile blooms softly. "I'll hold you to that. Now... hm, wasn't there something else you wanted to show me?" They've sat here so long, the prince has almost totally forgotten the little roadmap they laid out for themselves.

Dimitri certainly needn’t hold Claude to it - he wouldn’t give up his only real friend for anything - but he nods anyway, and then giggles a bit. “Hundreds of things! But it’s your turn to make the plans today, remember? Oh, wait—“ There was one thing. He leans down close to the ground and peers carefully into the grass near the empty pomegranate, watching for bugs. “Ah ha!” Spotting what he’s looking for, he reaches down to pick up the squirmy little pillbug and holds out his palm, letting Dimitri watch it curl up into a tiny ball. “See? It’s those bugs I was talking about.”

Dimitri watches wide-eyed and with no small amount of confusion as Claude... looks at... the ground? Only to exclaim a small 'oh!' when he clarifies, and leaning in close to look at the bug in his hand. "We don't really have much of _anything_ in Faerghus--" He thinks about reaching to take it in his own hand, but... thinks better of it quickly. "It's so... different, not being surrounded by snow all the time. It's nice."

”Go ahead, it’s not going to bite you or anything. I don’t even think it has teeth. It just eats stuff in the dirt.” Claude pushes his palm just a tiny bit closer to encourage Dimitri to touch the bug. “I think so too, but _never_ having snow isn’t fair. I know what I’m missing now, I want it to snow sometimes!”

"Yes, but--" Having something wiggle around in his hand is odd! Very odd!

Claude shrugs a bit. "Suit yourself." He rolls the pillbug around in his hand for a moment, before sending it rolling off into the grass.

Claude's remark about snow catches Dimitri's attention quickly, alongside giving him the smallest of pangs of homesickness. _It's only been a day._ Dimitri straightens his shoulders. "Then you can come to Faerghus to enjoy your winters." He says it with certainty, even nodding to himself. "They hold different festivals every year—based off of an old calendar they used to follow, back before Faerghus was Faerghus. You should get to see them, all of them."

"Oooh." Claude smiles, brushing dirt from his hands and hopping up to stand. "I love festivals! I don't know if I would survive a whole winter in Faerghus, though. I'd freeze into a solid block of ice, and then you would have to use your heroic Blaiddyd strength to haul me around!" He mimics Dimitri's melting speech earlier, except instead of melting into a puddle he pulls his arms in close and freezes in place, unmoving.

"Freeze? Hardly." The prince moves to join him, eyes trailing off after that poor bug somewhere in the grass... "I would never let you freeze. No matter how many cloaks and gloves I would have to get you-– no, even more, _I_ would keep you warm. So that you could enjoy the snow however you would wish to."

"You would?" Claude blinks, forgetting to be frozen, and then just abandons the act entirely. Then he grins. "To do that you'd _still_ have to haul me around, you know. I bet you could do it easily. I weigh a lot less than a boulder!"

"Hm... of course. I am certain I could probably lift you as is." For whatever outlandish reason, it seems like the prince is actually considering... "Here, lift your arms?"

Claude obliges, looking intrigued. _How is he going to do it? Like he'd lift a barrel of rocks? Or like...a potato sack?_ "Okay. Now what?"

Dimitri steps closer, contemplating, lips pursed... he stops at Claude's side and bends down a tad. "Relax your legs," comes his request, and after only a moment he moves to sweep a gentle arm underneath the other boy's legs, the other coming to brace him around the shoulders and lifting him, ever so carefully, from the ground.

"Okay--whoa!" Claude laughs, grabbing onto Dimitri's shoulders instinctively, even though the prince is obviously in no danger of dropping him.

"You really aren't heavy! You're lighter than you look, Claude."

"Lighter than I look? What's that mean, do I _look_ as heavy as a boulder?"

"That isn't what I said!" For all of Dimitri's floundering, his grip remains remarkably steady. "It's just that you weigh practically nothing! Are you eating alright?" What is an Alliance diet like anyway? He has no idea!

Claude laughs again. "Are you kidding, I love food! How often do you carry people around, anyway? Is everybody else really that much heavier than me?" He _is_ fairly small for a kid his age and always has been, which didn't help when he was trying to get the kids back home to leave him alone...doesn't help here in Derdriu, either. But it's taught him how to fight back against people more powerful than he is and figure out their weaknesses, so he supposes it's not a bad thing after all.

"Well, I don't... merely go around carrying people, no." There aren't so many people Dimitri feels comfortable displaying his strength for so recklessly, so... the prince is careful in leading Claude back onto his feet, hands hovering and lingering even after he's already put him down. "But, I think I could do that if it meant keeping you warm."

Claude smiles. The idea of Dimitri carrying him around in the snow to keep him warm sounds nice. "So maybe I'm not that light, and you're just _really_ strong. That was fun! I wonder how high you could throw me..." He looks up into the tree they were sitting under a moment ago. "What if you threw me up into the tree so I could pick the apples?...I uh..." He grins sheepishly. "Never learned how to climb a tree. We don't really have tall trees where I grew up."

"I won't be _throwing_ you, Claude, that's asking for disaster..."

”Fine, fine,” Claude sighs, as though Dimitri had turned down a totally reasonable suggestion.

"I'll-- teach you to climb instead, if need be." Every idle comment the boy makes about what Almyra is like only serves to make Dimitri more curious, though for the sake of their privacy, he'll have to wait until later, when confidence is assured, before he asks any further.

“I’d like that! But today, _you_ get to decide what to do next. Derdriu is your oyster, Dimitri!” Claude puts an arm around the prince’s shoulders and gestures expansively with the other.

Dimitri takes a solemn and quiet moment to consider his options carefully, wracking his brain over everything that Claude's told him about Derdriu over the years... and then it seems something comes to him. "Oh! Didn't you say that you all keep wyverns here?"

”I did! Come on, let’s go see them!” Claude grabs Dimitri’s hand and—now that they’re outdoors, no one will scold them for running, so run they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, Derdriu is basically fantasy Venice. Thus the cuisine. XD


	7. Derdriu: Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri meets his first wyvern up close. That night, Claude discovers just how bad Dimitri's nightmares can get.

The closer they get to the aerie, the more riders they see circling in the sky, patrolling or practicing maneuvers or just taking the beasts out for exercise. Dimitri wasn't expecting Claude's enthusiasm, but he knows that he ought to have been, and so he is raring to follow behind. He's never seen a wyvern up close, and he's been told in the past that it's mostly due to their dislike for the cold, that pegasi are far better suited to the chill of Faerghus than their scaled counterparts... he's excited, suffice it to say.

Soon, they arrive at the tall, open tower that serves as the aerie’s heart, and Claude leads the way up its wide spiral staircase to the top, where the wyverns roost. He introduces Dimitri (“His Highness, Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd of Faerghus”) to the wyvern keeper and gets permission for them to meet the creatures close up. Sheepish as Dimitri is to be introduced with his title, it's forgotten easily, once he comes to see his first in-the-flesh wyvern. They're majestic, in a different way than the draft horses of Fhirdiad. As cautious as he is, he's also deathly curious, though manages to stay anchored to Claude by the hand he holds even as his eyes widen and he gasps. "Oh... they're even bigger than I thought! Somehow..."

Claude watches Dimitri's reaction with a wide grin--another moment he's been waiting for since the prince first told him he'd never seen a wyvern before. "Yeah! Even the babies get huge fast. When I was little, K--uh, there was a baby wyvern who was already twice my size when she was just a year old." He leads Dimitri around the roost until they come to a creature that's a little bit smaller than the rest, with old claw scars across his underbelly. He seems like a surly beast, but when he sees and smells Claude, his head comes up expectantly. "This is Eyvindr. He was the runt of his litter, and when he was little his siblings tried to, uh..." He draws a finger across his throat instead of saying it aloud. "But the aerie master saved him. So now he's a little moody, but he likes me. Want to go pet him?"

It doesn't take Dimitri long to figure out what Claude had been attempting to allude to—both with this large wyvern from his youth, and the fate this Eyvindr nearly met. Dimitri eyes the beast, somewhat warily; he wouldn't hesitate, normally, though he doesn't want to make the wyvern uncomfortable... "Is that alright?" he comes to ask, softly.

"Yeah, I bet he'll like you too." Claude tugs Dimitri by the hand closer to the wyvern, slowly and carefully, so as not to startle either of them. When they get close enough, he reaches out a hand, letting Eyvindr size them up and consider before lowering his head and letting Claude pat his snout, rumbling his growly assent. The beast's large eye lands on Dimitri and seems to deliberate, but he doesn't show any malice or fear. "See? Go ahead. I can get you a fish to feed him, if you want."

With Claude's encouraging words, it doesn't take long for Dimitri to psych himself up. He's slow, careful, in reaching out his hand, holding it just close enough for Eyvindr to sniff at...

The wyvern sniffs and snuffles at Dimitri's hand for a moment, looking at Claude as if to say 'this one's yours? then I guess it's okay.' Then the great beast lowers his head to allow the prince to pat him, too. Claude waits until then before hurrying over to a barrel of freshly caught fish and grabbing one, then hurrying back to leave Dimitri alone with the wyvern for as short a time as possible, and handing him the fish. "They like to snack on these. You can just toss it, when you're ready, and he'll catch it. Just...do it from back there." He points behind them.

Dimitri's amazed, enraptured by the wyvern, once he's been accepted—and then very suddenly feels the weight of a dead, slimy fish in his palm. He manages not to drop it, thankfully... The prince does as instructed, taking a few steps back to create distance and, though somewhat hesitant still, tossing the fish for Eyvindr to catch.

Claude hurries to back away too, seeing Dimitri move, and grins as the wyvern's enormous jaws snap up the snack right out of the air. Eyvindr rumbles his approval afterward, and Claude considers, thoughtful. "Hmm...I could ask if we can take him out for a ride, if you want, but usually I'm not allowed unless my instructor is with me." He rolls his eyes; it's a stupid rule, because he's been flying on wyvernback since he was a young child, but of course, no one here can know that. In the Alliance, children aren't allowed to train alone with a wyvern until they turn 16. "So maybe we'll have to wait until your first real lesson."

"I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... that's probably for the best." Still, though, Dimitri's content for now with this, with the wyvern's contented growling as he returns to petting the creature's snout. They have more time here than they did in Faerghus; Dimitri need not rush either of them for the sake of his own pointless worries. He turns to Claude, and smiles as brightly as always. "For now, I don't see anything wrong with resting. It's been a long trip here, and we have time, this time around."

 _We have time_... Claude's mental pendulum is swinging back toward 'it's not enough,' but he nods his agreement. "Yeah, you're right. Tomorrow's going to be pretty busy, too, they're having that big fancy dinner with all the noble families to welcome you here." He seems to close himself off just a little, as he says that, but then a thought occurs to him. "Um...Di--I mean--" He glances around; the wyvern keeper's not far away. "I mean, Your Highness, would you mind...helping me remember which spoons to use and everything, before dinner tomorrow?"

Claude's sudden change in demeanor has the prince... very nearly startled, though it isn't long before he discerns why, even if he isn't all too certain what he's truly asking. He nods. "Of course, always." His smile persists, in spite of that reminder of what their next day here has in store for him... he makes a face, not even bothering to hide it before Claude, at the thought.

Claude's relief is visible on his face. If Dimitri's going to help him, he should be okay. "Thanks." Then he lowers his voice, leaning closer. "Don't worry, I'll make sure the dinner's not _too_ boring. ;)"

"So long as you and I are sitting beside one another, I doubt it will matter." Dimitri moves then, reaches out a hand to take Claude's, before he heads back toward the little door leading back out into the aerie.

* * *

Before going to sleep, Dimitri had wondered vaguely if a change of scenery, some distance between himself and that chilly, oppressive air of Faerghus would aid him in sleeping better.

His room is far enough from Rodrigue's that his tossing and turning goes uninterrupted for some time. Even his poor lion stuffy, Claude's gift given mere hours ago, has suffered the consequences of his struggling and been launched across the room, joining his pillow and blankets strewn haphazardly across the floor. For as cool as the breeze is once it drifts in through the crack in his window... everything is burning.

Claude's never been one for going to sleep when he's supposed to. After dark is the most interesting time of day! How can he bear to spend it all asleep? Besides, his life is so full of lessons and expectations and socializing; these moments he takes for himself at night after everyone else has gone to bed are all his own, fleeting and precious. He can read stories, take walks, gaze at the stars...he wishes he could have brought his telescope from home. But his mother told him they don't have telescopes in Fodlan, so...he left it behind, along with Khalilah, most of his wardrobe, most of his books...it's not often he feels this way, but when he does, it can be difficult to shake.

So at first, when he hears the clattering noise from the other room, he's almost grateful for the interruption. But then he realizes where it came from--that was Dimitri's room, wasn't it? What if something happened, what if someone broke in to-- He slips his hand underneath his pillow to pull out his dagger in one smooth motion, then runs as quietly as he can to the door, not even bothering to stop to put the book he was reading down. He listens...he doesn't hear footsteps, but...he cracks open the door, then moves quickly to Dimitri's door and pushes it open, knife at the ready.

His first thought is: _I'm too late._ His heart contracts in his chest and he can't breathe for a moment. The bedding is strewn all over, and the lantern that sat on the desk has been knocked over onto the floor, glass shattered--thank the gods it wasn't lit! But given a moment to look around and to think, he can see that things aren't as he'd feared at first. The window is closed, there's no blood, and Dimitri--he's breathing, he's just...still asleep. On closer inspection, it looks like the lion stuffy is what knocked the lantern over. That it shattered upon impact with a rug means the stuffed animal must have been flung with impressive strength, which means Dimitri himself must have thrown it. And indeed, the prince is still tossing and turning in bed, clearly suffering a nightmare.

"Dimitri?" Claude suddenly realizes that coming into the prince's room _carrying a dagger_ in the middle of the night could be horribly misconstrued, so he hastily shoves the weapon under the closest piece of furniture--a fluffy armchair. "Hey..." He comes over to the bed and reaches out to shake the other boy. "Dimitri, wake up!"

It's with Glenn's screams ringing in his ears that the prince startles awake. He gasps, feels his throat closing up on him, his hands trembling against the sheets and everything is dark and blurring...

Blurring. He's crying. Dimitri shudders and claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his loud breathing, and it's only in that moment he notices–- Claude is here, peering at him through the dark of his room, fear in his eyes. A sound escapes him, some soft and pitiful whine that he doesn't manage to stop in time. "Claude," he chokes out. "I-I..."

 _...that nightmare really must have been awful._ "Are...are you okay?" Claude's not sure why he said that; clearly the answer is no. He puts the book he's still holding down on the bedside table, but then he's not sure what to do with his hands, or at all. So he just sort of...hovers there, standing beside the bed. "Do you want me to...?" To what? He's not even sure.

Dimitri doesn't seem to realize that Claude has asked anything at all. He rubs at his own eyes, desperately scrubbing the tears away and taking the time to calm his breathing, like Rodrigue taught him to... he's left looking at Claude still bathed in shadow and overcome with guilt. Even his dearest friend must be drawn into his suffering. The prince sniffles again. "Sorry." His hands find the fabric of Claude's night shirt, and he pulls the other boy into a vicelike hug. "Sorry. I'm sorry..."

 _Why is he apologizing?_ Claude wraps his arms around Dimitri and squeezes tight. The prince's embrace actually hurts, and it's a little hard to breathe, and it's giving him a good idea of just how much Dimitri's usually holding back when they do this...but he certainly has no intention of telling the other boy to stop. "You don't have to be sorry. It's okay. You're okay, everything's fine."

Claude has nightmares sometimes too, though not ever this bad, he thinks. Whenever he used to tell his parents, they would say that asking for comfort from nothing but his own imagination made him weak, and that neither the dark nor anything his mind could conjure ought to scare an Almyran warrior-prince. Well, Dimitri's a warrior-prince too, but Claude doesn't think his parents' advice was all that great, actually. He always felt horrible and terrified, slinking back to his room alone after that. So he doesn't say anything like that to Dimitri. Instead, he just tries to adjust their embrace a little so he can sit down on the edge of the bed.

Dimitri's panic fades to make way instead for mortification. His grip loosens the more he drifts back to reality, the more the prince becomes aware of himself and the state of the room, of his hands twisting into Claude's shirt and the tears drying on his cheeks. He's leaning heavily into Claude by the time he's calm again. For all he knows that their secrecy for one another is unbreakable... Dimitri worries. He can't bear to look at the other boy, fearful of what he might see, of how Claude might be looking at him.

Claude doesn't say anything for a long while, and tries to keep breathing quietly without gasping for air or anything as Dimitri's grip relaxes. He waits until it seems like the prince has calmed down more or less completely before he finally speaks softly. "I guess your bad dreams must be worse than mine, huh." It's a little flippant, but it's not a joke; he says it with gentle sympathy.

"Did I wake you?" Dimitri's own voice sounds distant to him. The boy is suddenly very aware of his hold on Claude and moves away, hair flopping to hang over his eyes as he sits, hunched over, at the head of the bed. When he sees the lantern in the corner of his eye, just barely making out the light of the moon reflecting on its broken glass, the prince only curls further in on himself. "... it's late."

Claude shakes his head, not sure if he should stay where he's sitting on the edge of the bed or get up, or...well, Dimitri hasn't asked him to stop sitting there, so he stays put for now. "No, I was still up. Reading." He gestures to the book he left on the bedside table, then follows the prince's gaze to the shards of glass on the floor. "Don't worry about the lantern, it's no big deal. We'll just get another one. And I can clean this up myself, so we don't have to let any of the servants know."

Now he does get up, but with purpose--to fetch Dimitri's pillows and blankets, and bring them back. Then he goes to pick up the lion stuffy, and brings it to the window so he can see in the moonlight, well enough to very carefully pick through its fur until he's positive there's not a single bit of glass in it, before he returns it to Dimitri. "You stay here, and I'll go get a broom, okay?" The prince's arms wind around the lion, as he nods and falls quiet again.

Claude sneaks around the manor as quietly as he can to reach the servants’ supply room and borrow a broom and something to gather the glass in. When he gets back, he wastes no time in sweeping up the shards...although he’s never done this before, so his efforts are awkward and he can’t figure out how he’s supposed to get the bits from their gathered pile into the bin? Every time he tries, some are left behind...scooping them up with his hand sounds like a bad idea, so in the end he gets what he can and just...plops the bin itself on top of the remaining shards so Dimitri won’t accidentally step on them.

“Whew...that was harder than it looks! Who knew sweeping was so complicated?” He turns to the prince with a smile, trying to cheer him up, but...he doesn’t think it’s working. He comes back over to the bed to sit on it again and take Dimitri’s hand. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

As briefly as he's left alone, a few mere minutes at most, by the time Claude is back Dimitri's already fighting off Glenn. He doesn't ever remember Glenn being so... vocal. He comes back to reality when he feels Claude's hand around his. Dimitri lifts his head, looks at him blearily... debates with himself. He shouldn't, he thinks. Claude is already burdened with the knowledge of what happened to Dimitri's family and the various ways it's come to affect him—and the sort of thing it's turned him into. "Duscur," he whispers, once he's won out over stepmother. "I relive it, sometimes. It's... it happens." As nonchalant as he wants to seem about it, though, Claude's hand is a comfort that Dimitri embraces readily.

 _Of course._ Claude nods, understanding. “Do you want to do something else for a while? I could show you what I found in this book and we could go look at the stars, if you want.”

 _The stars_... Dimitri hesitates, but nods eventually, and slowly pushes himself to the edge of his bed, not once letting go of Claude's hand.

Claude grabs the book from the table with his other hand and pauses once Dimitri’s out of bed, thinking. “You’ll need shoes, if we’re going outside. But we don’t have to try the roof tonight. ...oh, and uh...I have to get something from under the chair.”

Dimitri isn't... certain... what he means by that. But he nods, unsteady on his feet for a moment, before he goes to dig out one of his lighter cloaks, trimmed moderately with fur, and his shoes.

Claude runs over to retrieve the dagger from under the chair where he’d shoved it, looking a bit chagrined. “I...thought maybe someone was attacking you. When I heard the noise.” By way of explanation.

By the look on his face, Dimitri is a little baffled, not quite at the thought of his friend wielding a dagger so readily (not after knowing what he does, little as it is) but that he would... come to his aid so readily. Granted, knowing what he thought was happening, perhaps it shouldn't be that surprising. Touching, though, that it most certainly is. "No. Only me, attacking myself." It's meant to be funny, but there's strain in his smile.

”Well, I won’t let anything happen to you, no matter who it is.” Claude tucks the book under his arm so he can shift the dagger to his other hand and use the first one to take Dimitri’s again. He leads the way back to his own room, so he can put the dagger back under his pillow and then put on his own shoes and a heavier cloak, and drag a thick blanket out of the wardrobe. “Okay, now we’re ready! Just stay quiet, we’re not supposed to sneak out this late. ;)” And the two boys make their way as stealthily as they can through the still, silent halls and outside, where the crickets chirp a symphony to accompany their little adventure.


	8. Derdriu: Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude shows Dimitri the stars and finds some adorable nicknames for the name "Dimitri" in an old book. Dimitri decides on the sort of animal Claude would be, if he had an animal nickname...

Claude leads the two of them past the orchard behind the manor to a flower-strewn meadow, where he spreads the blanket out on the ground and lies down on it, tugging the prince down beside him as he huddles in his cloak. Dimitri joins him readily, still shoulder-to-shoulder once they're both sat on the blanket, though far too awake and conscious of himself to let himself be all over the other boy. So far away from the sort of scenery he recognizes... for the prince, it almost feels like a dream. Not a nightmare, but a real dream like the sort he used to have. He still lingers in uncertainty, but he doesn't feel... at risk. In danger, in some way. "Thank you, Claude. I... really."

”...of course.” Claude fiddles with the book in his lap, hesitant. He’s never told anyone but his parents about this before, but after everything...he can tell Dimitri. “I have nightmares sometimes too. About...times when I was in danger, or...when people tried to make me fight them...other stuff. And my parents used to say I shouldn’t be afraid of nightmares, or let them get to me. They said I should be stronger than that.” He looks at Dimitri with a fierce certainty. “But they were wrong, Dimitri, and I don’t want you to feel like that either.”

The first thing that comes to mind for the prince, meanwhile, is that of course even in this most unfortunate aspect of their lives... they would remain kindred spirits. There's a bitter sort of comfort he gets from hearing it straight from Claude himself. "It's... it isn't something that you can just. Not be afraid of." Claude knows this too, he suspects, though this is the first he's ever gotten the opportunity to put words to his thoughts on the matter. "Isn't that kind of the point? You... it's the worst things for you. The stuff that you're the most afraid of."

"Heh. Yeah, that _is_ what nightmares are, you're right." Despite having been in the room while Dimitri was in the middle of suffering one himself, it's different for Claude to hear him say that out loud; it brings a brief but intense wave of relief, that there's one person in the world who gets it, and who isn't going to berate him for being soft or weak or a troublemaker.

Dimitri would like to be there for Claude, too. If no one else will, if even his parents wouldn't be, Dimitri could. He loops his arm with the other boy's, finds his hand again to squeeze gingerly. "I want to protect you from that, too. I don't know if I'm strong enough but I-I want to try. At least try..."

Claude squeezes back, more firmly. Dimitri wants to protect him? That's...yet another new thing the prince has said that no one has really said before. Not like this. He's had bodyguards, sure. He had a retainer once. But his bodyguards were only protecting him because they were paid to, and because he was royalty; his retainer was only pretending to be his friend, and was in fact someone he needed protection _from_ in the end. He knows he should be more wary of this, too; a voice in the back of his mind tells him that if he keeps letting his guard down around Dimitri, sooner or later he's going to regret it. But...he wants to. Desperately. He's got to have _one_ person in all the world to trust...right? And if he has one, he wants it to be Dimitri.

"...thanks. Nobody's...I mean, that's...I'm not used to that. So it's...I like hearing you say that." Claude nods to himself. "Yeah. We'll protect each other, then."

Dimitri feels a little bad, catching him so off-guard, and it's enough that he nearly lets himself worry he's said too much. He's been told, by his friends, by Rodrigue, most certainly by his uncle, that he is far too trusting, a sentiment against him that's only seemed to rise in prominence after the Tragedy. The prince draws his knees to his chest, so that he might rest his chin against them. "Can I say something?" It's a quiet question, uncertain, though he doesn't wait for an answer to say it. He might not be able to do it, if he does wait. "I'm... dreading this year. Not being here—but... when it ends. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. That I must go back there. That... that--" He stammers to a stop.

Claude nods at the question, even though Dimitri's already moving on by the time he does. The prince looks, and sounds...nervous? Or unsure, maybe? Then he understands. "...me too, Dimitri. Sometimes I think, we have all year, and it sounds like all the time in the world. But then sometimes I think...we only have a year, and that's it. I guess it's pretty selfish of me to want you to stay instead of..." _Leaving me alone._ "Going back home to your friends and everything. They'll miss you, I bet." _But they get to have each other, at least._

"It isn't as if we won't speak to one another afterward." If anything, Dimitri intends to write more, tell him more, send him more things, now that they know the truths of one another and now, especially, that Claude has not abandoned him for it. "But it's different getting to be here. I don't have to be okay around you. Not like I do with everyone else." Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix. They're his friends, but more than that, they are his people. They count on him in a way that Claude doesn't; they expect things of him, strength and resolution, that he doesn't have to fake when he's here in Derdriu, alone with nothing but the stars and the boy sat next to him. He sniffles again, and his head rests on Claude's shoulder.

"...I know exactly what you mean," Claude replies softly. But then he adopts a more confident tone. "But you're right, we'll still send letters and everything, and then we'll get to see each other again at the Academy for _another_ whole year." Time to change the subject, Claude decides, before he thinks himself into a spiral.

"Want to see what I found in this book?" He doesn't let go of Dimitri's hand or shift positions, not wanting to jar the prince, instead just opening the book with one hand to the page he'd folded over the corner of to mark his place. "It's a history of important Faerghus family lines and names and whatnot. And I found out one of your relatives from a hundred years ago was named Dimitri too, and it says the name 'Dimitri' is from Old Faerghan and probably means something like 'earth mother' or 'earth god.' And look!" He points to the paragraph. "It says there are traditional nicknames: 'Dima' and 'Mitya.' Do you have any nicknames? Can I call you one of those?" He doesn't say so aloud, but he thinks these nicknames are _so cute_. And they really fit Dimitri well.

It's an effective distraction apparently, because the prince leans in to look closer at that book, interest piqued by the mention of Old Faerghus, something even his own people don't harbor much interest in. Dimitri, though... "You would be correct," he admits, though it's soft. "From-- what I've found out, anyway. If I didn't have the royal library, I doubt I would've had anything that says much about how Faerghus used to be."

"If you like libraries, I _have_ to show you the one in central Derdriu," Claude gushes. "It's huge! All the nobles pitched in from their collections to start it when the Alliance first came to be, and now it gets books from wherever it can, especially from incoming ships. This one's from my grandfather's library, though."

"I wonder what else it ought to have in it, then. A few of your nobles were originally from Faerghus at some point..." It's funny to think that Dimitri might be better aided in his search for information here in a completely different country. "Mm...my friends do call me Dima." He doesn't want Claude to call him that, though. "'Mitya'," he tests, accent thickening, "that one is new."

Claude listens carefully to the way Dimitri pronounces it. "I want to call you that new one. Can I?"

"I'm okay with that."

Claude grins. "All right then, I will." Then he nods. "There are a bunch of books about the Kingdom in the central library. I don't know if there's anything older than that but we can check!...back home, there's an even bigger library. It has a fancy name but it just means 'House of Enlightenment.' It's the royal library, but we open it up to the public one day a week."

"I see... that's more than I can say for ours, but I guess that there's a reason for it." Dimitri's eyes idly trace the page Claude's lingered on, following the curves of his own name. "Our library is closed to anyone but the royal family, and anyone that we allow in, I suppose. It's... _supposed_ to be private—the things that they hid from the Empire, to preserve our history. It's a treasured Blaiddyd secret, so it must stay between you and I, okay?" It's said with more than enough good humor, however.

Claude nods, firmly. "I won't tell anyone." He thinks it's terrible that no one else gets to read any of those books...but he can understand not wanting the Empire to destroy them. It's...sad--no, _worse_ than sad--that one people took over another so thoroughly that so much of who they were and what they loved was lost to history. That's the kind of thing that causes wars. That solidifies borders. Makes people feel hatred for whole other countries.

...time to change the subject again, Claude thinks, before he gets angry. "Anyway, I don't have any nicknames for you to call me, my name's too short already, heh." There were certainly things people used to call him in Almyra that weren't his name, but...nothing he'd rather hear again.

"Well... I like to say your name." If anything, it's special enough just calling him Claude, but Dimitri can't say something like that and keep his dignity intact at the same time.

"...you do?" When Claude was younger, he hated that his name was from his mother's culture, because everyone made fun of it. So for a while, he gave himself an Almyran name and insisted people call him that instead. It didn't stick, though, mostly because as a member of the royal family everyone knew who he was anyway, and so trying to change his name only made people want to call him the name he _didn't_ like more. But here in Fodlan, no one thinks it's strange; and if Dimitri likes it...maybe he can like it, too.

Dimitri nods. "Not to mention that a lot of our nicknames are... mm. Odd. Usually, the traditional ones at least, they're _animals_."

Claude laughs a bit. "Really? There's nothing wrong with animals. Like what?"

"Well... usually, they're for cute things. Sometimes, my father would call me _lev_ —for lion. Hm, but... you would probably be something else. You would be like... _zaika-_ -" He's already giggling and he's barely even said it!

Claude commits that one to memory, too-- _lev_ , for lion. Then his eyebrows lift, at the second one. "...dare I ask what it means?"

"It's a rabbit." Dimitri's beaming as he says this.

"A _rabbit?"_ Claude considers this. "Well, I am fast." He squints at Dimitri in mock-suspicion. "But that look on your face tells me that's not why you picked it..."

"Because your hair is soft, and I like to hug you." The prince can only hope his answer is satisfactory.

Claude stares at Dimitri, eyes round as plates, cheeks flushing. "But...but lions _eat_ rabbits!" Then he smirks. "I'll just have to be fast and clever enough to escape the lion's jaws."

"I-- wouldn't eat you!" Of course, Claude finds a way to tease him back...

"...is my hair really that soft?" Claude lifts a hand to pat his own hair, experimentally.

Dimitri is quick to find his amusement again. "It is! And it's so curly."

"Heh. Then I guess that's me-- _zaika_. Actually--" Claude lies back on the blanket so he can comfortably look up at the sky. "There's a constellation in Almyra that's a rabbit--the Jackrabbit. Look--" He points up at the sky, tracing the pattern of the rabbit's head in the stars.

Dimitri follows suit, struggling for a moment but coming to spot the shape eventually, as Claude traces it for him. Lying down brings a sudden sort of tiredness; the prince forgot he was trying to sleep until they ventured out here... "Even if not in Faerghus," he says, "I'm glad that I can see the stars."

"I'm glad I got to show them to you. I wish I could show you my telescope...have you ever seen one? My mother told me they don't make them in Fodlan."

She ought to be right, from the blank look on Dimitri's face "T-teluh..."

"Te- le- scope. Uh, we call it _axtarbin_ at home. It's...you know how if you look through a magnifying glass, things look bigger? So imagine if you had a long tube with a really powerful magnifying glass in it, and then another lens at your eye when you look into it, and you aim it at the sky--" Claude mimes holding it up to his eye. "And you can see the stars much more clearly! Some of them are different colors when you see them that close."

"Ah. Well... I guess we wouldn't have much use for them in Faerghus." Dimitri knows that isn't the... real reason, most likely. He's marveling that such a thing exists, and wondering... if he'll ever be able to see one for himself. He thinks back to Edelgard, and the... somewhat... impolite... things she's said about Fhirdiad in comparison to her home in Adrestia. "I don't think we have _anything_ like that."

"Oh, yeah. Because it's cloudy all the time." Claude frowns in thought. "It might be possible to find one here...sometimes things from Almyra get traded to somewhere else, like Morfis, and then here. People in Leicester don't usually know where they're originally from. They think Morfis invented _everything_." He rolls his eyes. "But maybe I could figure out how to _make_ one instead. A little one, anyway."

There's a comment there, on the tip of Dimitri's tongue. He decides against it. "I think I'm still astounded that I can see the stars at all... I grew up reading about them, only to be separated from them until now."

Claude smiles. "Well, what do you think of them? ...sometimes I just stare at them for hours and hours. I know all the constellations, the Almyran ones _and_ the Fodlan ones."

"I don't know yet." Dimitri can feel his eyes grow a little heavier; the stars themselves are starting to blur together. "I don't think it's hit me yet that I'm seeing them..."

"You're falling aslee--" Claude yawns; apparently, it's contagious. Or, you know, late at night. "We should go back inside before we _both_ fall asleep and get in trouble."

As mildly familiar as Rodrigue might be with their shenanigans after Claude's week in Faerghus... the prince doesn't feel up to tempting fate after only a single day here in Derdriu. He nods, yawning softly. He doesn't really want to move... even more, he doesn't want to go back to sleep. But the prince moves to his knees, drawing his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, and moves to haul the other boy up with him.

Claude lets Dimitri pull him up and then scoops the blanket up with his other hand with the book nestled inside it. He’s getting cold anyway, although he wouldn’t mention it to Dimitri for fear he’d feel bad about it.

Once inside and back upstairs, sneaking quietly through the halls to their rooms, Claude whispers, “Next time we’ll go out earlier so you can look at the stars as much as you want.”

As much as he wants... Dimitri thinks he'd like to get to see them a little longer, next time. He nods, and as the pair of them make their way back to their rooms, ever careful, his mind drifts closer and closer back to... Dimitri pauses outside of his door, fingers toying with the hem of his cloak.

Claude's about to open his own door when he spots Dimitri’s hesitation. He moves to join the prince. “Still not ready?”

As much as Dimitri hates to, _refuses_ to, return to his room and the ghosts that await him... he feels bad. Bad for burdening Claude like this. Dimitri knew it would happen eventually with how kind the other boy has been toward him... "I'm sor--" Claude doesn't want him to apologize. He merely shakes his head instead.

Claude knows that if Dimitri can just find a safe, quiet place to lie down where he doesn’t feel afraid, he’ll fall right asleep - he was halfway there already outside. But apparently, by himself in his new room isn’t that place - at least, not yet. It’s only his first night here, after all. “Do you want me to stay with you? Or do you want to come to my room?”

Dimitri freezes, for a moment. "Is that-- ah. If you're sure, I..." He clasps his gloved hands. "I could. Come to your room? Mine might still have some... glass."

”I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t okay! Come on. Want to bring, uh...whatever the lion’s name is? As long as he won’t eat me, either, that is.” Claude grins a bit.

"Ah... he _is_ quite ferocious. He broke a lantern, after all." The prince manages to smile, and does duck back into his room, careful to avoid the place where most of the glass would have ended up, and find the lion stuffy on his bed. He emerges with the lion hugged tight to his chest, as well as with his pillow underneath his arm.

Claude giggles and leads the way back to his own room, where the moonlight spills in through the window, as he keeps the curtain tied up and out of the way. He picks up his own pillow to make room for Dimitri’s, then glances around the room. “I could sleep on the window seat if you want. I like sleeping there with the window open when it’s warmer, heh. Then it’s like sleeping outside!”

"Is... that comfortable?" Dimitri supposes, if he does it often... "I-- if that's alright with you." Slowly, he moves to the bed, carefully taking off his shoes and settling onto the bed with his pillow and stuffy. "As long as you can get your sleep..."

”Don’t worry about me, I can sleep anywhere.” And in fact, once or twice while Claude was in Fhirdiad, Dimitri found him napping hunched over the desk in his room or curled up in an armchair, having fallen asleep while reading.

Claude takes off his own shoes and cloak, tossing them aside instead of putting them away, and then rummages in a wooden chest at the foot of the bed to pull out another blanket. Then he...clears some books and papers off the bed, with a bit of a sheepish look, so Dimitri doesn’t have to share space with them. He makes himself comfortable on the window seat with a pile of cushions and his pillow and blanket, yawning. “Good night, Dimitri—I mean, good night, Mitya.”

The name, at least, manages to make Dimitri smile. "Goodnight," comes his soft answer, and the prince allows himself, if tentatively, to settle under the blankets, curled up close around his lion. Soon, both of them are fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As in Emerald Star, the headcanon of Claude having had a retainer who betrayed him when he was younger is one I found somewhere on tumblr, but I can't find it again to source it. -_-
> 
> Also, languages! We used Russian for Old Faerghan and Persian for Almyran. Also, we hc that Almyra is more technologically/scientifically advanced than most of Fodlan is, much like the Islamic Golden Age. Thus, the telescope.


	9. Derdriu: Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri finally gets a firsthand glimpse at what it's like to be Claude in Fodlan, and loses his temper. Rodrigue turns out to be a better ally than Claude ever thought he might, but the incident stirs up a lot of feelings for him that he's not sure how to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an unusually long one. Also, cw: it gets pretty heavy.

The next morning, when the sunlight streaming in through the window wakes Claude up, he doesn’t pull the blankets over his head and go back to sleep like he usually does. Instead, he gets up and sneaks around his room as quietly as possible to gather his shoes and clothes and take them to the washroom to freshen up and change, and then head out to borrow a horse and go to the port marketplace. He ignores Geoffrey’s snide remarks about how something must be wrong for young Master Claude to be up and about so early, instead making haste so he can make sure to be back before Dimitri wakes up and looks for breakfast...

About an hour later, he returns with a few special ingredients that he found, including two spicy peppers - he couldn’t find ghost peppers, but these are not a bad substitute - and a pouch of ceyenne enhanced with a kind of oil Claude’s not familiar with but is supposed to have a very strong flavor. He gives these to the chef in the kitchens and instructs her to use them for Prince Dimitri’s breakfast. When the chef gives him a disapproving look and says he shouldn’t be trying to play pranks on his guest, he has to get creative to convince her he’s not joking without giving away Dimitri’s secret; eventually, he has to agree to let them put the spicy parts of the meal on the side just in case. Good enough, he supposes--he can always just mix them in himself at the table.

So by the time Dimitri wakes up, Claude has left him a note to meet him in the dining room. Dimitri's first reaction, upon waking up, is largely panic. The sun is already up by the time his eyes are open and he nearly bolts out of bed before he remembers... well. If Rodrigue were going to continue his training schedule so strictly, the prince supposes he would've come to wake him sooner...? Slowly, almost hesitantly, Dimitri marvels as he slides out of bed. He finds the note on Claude's nightstand and it seems to spur him into action, prompting the prince to hurry to his own rooms and find fresh clothes, changing and replacing his tunic and gloves with haste before he descends into the manor to the dining hall.

"Good morning," comes his soft call, once he enters the room and spots Claude. Sheepish as he is after recalling the night before... his smile is genuine and wide as he moves to claim the seat next to him.

”Morning!” Claude smiles too, trying not to give away that there’s anything special going on, but unable to entirely keep the anticipation out of his words when he says, “Breakfast is ready, I hope you’re hungry.” And it’s equally tough to start eating his own food normally instead of watching Dimitri like a hawk to see his reaction.

Dimitri normally isn't one for breakfast, but it does look quite good. His prayer is quick before the prince tucks in, and... after his first bite, he's left looking at his plate with wide eyes, dumbfounded, and a little confused and-- He takes another bite, and another, unsure if he's imagining it or if it really... no, he really is tasting this quite strongly. His hum is soft, but appreciative, and an odd feeling of warmth overcomes him the more he eats. It doesn't take much to discern what's going on, or more specifically whose doing this is. He can't say much for the sake of his own privacy, but he looks to Claude with no small amount of gratitude pulling his lips into a smile.

Claude grins back with excitement. It worked! He keeps his tone casual as he says, “If you like it, we can ask the staff to make yours like this all the time.”

Habitually, Dimitri almost asks if Claude means that, but of course he does. His smile softens, the pinkness of his cheeks deepens, and he nods with enthusiasm—and another bite. "Thank you Claude, really... I would like that."

"Then it's settled." _And I'll experiment on my own to figure out how to cook things from home. Maybe I can learn in time for his birthday..._

By the time Rodrigue joins them in the dining hall... well, it's likely the most he's seen the prince eat ever since the Tragedy. Dimitri greets him happily, offers him a small bite which the Shield accepts readily, with a hiss after the fact—and if he's smiling all the brighter during their meal, Dimitri doesn't yet say why.

* * *

Time in Derdriu is passing... not slowly, though fortunately not too quickly, either. Dimitri soon begins to explore the rest of the city with his dear friend. For all that Claude is overjoyed to have Dimitri here in Derdriu with him, he doesn't wait long after returning before getting back into the swing of his studies and training. He knows he's still got a long way to go, and after watching the prince effortlessly fit in with the Alliance nobles, he's determined never to feel that out of sorts over something so trivial again. Between his redoubling of effort and Dimitri's help, he already feels like he's more on top of things than before. But there's still so much more--politics, trade and finance, history, geography, lineages and Crests...it never ends, but he doesn't plan to rest until he masters it all.

So as it turns out, he's had a little less time to show Dimitri everything he wants to than he'd expected, so far. But less isn't none--he's already showed the prince all the constellations he knows, and his favorite restaurant, and took him on a gondola ride through the canals. And now...now it's time for one of Claude's other favorite things to do. Granted, he's realized he has a lot of favorite things to do. But still! The weather has started to warm, so he follows up on yet another small admission the prince made to him, at some point.

Today, it's the coast that the young heir is taking Dimitri to. It's evident how well Claude knows the city, traversing it with ease and dragging Dimitri clumsily along as he struggles to take in all of it. He's still clutching the other boy's hand tight as a lifeline even after the endless rows of buildings part around them and...

"Oh," Dimitri says, low. "This is so different from our coast!" How unlike the frozen sea of Faerghus... he watches, mesmerized, as the tide flows and laps at the sand.

"Different how?" Claude tugs Dimitri closer to the water, taking a deep breath of sea air and watching the gulls pass by overhead. It's still a bit cold by Claude's standards to be taking a dip in the bay, but he isn't about to wait even _longer_ for it to warm up--he's waited long enough to teach Dimitri how to swim. As they approach the wetter sand by the waterline, his gaze is drawn to the waves too, as it always is.

"We have a shore in Faerghus too, of course, to the north. But it's just... frozen, mostly. Almost constantly, and even when it isn't, it's all grey and dreary just like the rest of Fhirdiad..." It smells different too, Dimitri notices. He looks to the sand with a mixture of curiosity and muted surprise; their view of the ocean from home is the sheer drop over a side of the cliffs...

"It's frozen? Whoa...so you've never gone collecting seashells or anything?" Claude drags his eyes away from the waves to the sand, hunting quickly with his eyes before crouching to pry a pearlescent shell the size of his palm out of the sand and hand it to Dimitri. "Back home, we used to gather a whole bunch of them and then my mother would make jewelry out of them. Oh--and you've never made a sand castle? It's just like snow when it's wet...well, kind of. I wouldn't throw sand balls at anyone! But you can pack it together and build things out of it. Or bury people in it." He giggles at the thought of burying Dimitri up to his neck in sand.

"Mm-mm. It's far down, farther than I'm allowed to go. They don't allow us up near the cliffs, and that's as close as we can get to the ocean there..." The mention of jewelry spikes something soft in Dimitri, immediately overrun by curiosity at the mention of a... sand castle. The stuff underfoot is super loose under his boots... "I see... I don't know how, um, willing, I am, to get wet but..."

"It's just water, Mitya." Claude moves a little closer to the shallows, still not actually touching the water but reaching where the sand is wet enough to mold and shape. He kneels down and starts to pack it into bricks, then pile the bricks up. "Come on, let's make a sand tower!"

There's an argument waiting on the prince's tongue, but he can only sigh and follow Claude's lead. He kneels carefully on the sand, prods experimentally at it... oh. He wasn't kidding when he said it's. Kind of? Like snow. He dips his fingers further down, scoops up a tiny bit to feel it in his palm. "You're also forgetting I'm not an artist or anything--"

"Neither am I!" Claude packs a new sand brick and pushes it over toward Dimitri. "Just give it a shot. The worst that happens is the tower falls over and we start over again. Or else I get revenge by making a Sand-Dimitri." He grins.

The prince doesn't know what a Sand-Dimitri is, only that it sounds at least vaguely threatening. He gives Claude a look, something between exasperated and confused. This brick doesn't feel nearly as reliable as snow would... "Do I... want to know what that means?"

Claude opens his mouth to reply, but just then he spots a small group of older teenagers approaching them and freezes. He recognizes them; they were there at the ceremony where he was officially announced as House Riegan's heir, children of minor noble houses. They made it clear, at the time, that the only reason they weren't 'sending him back to wherever he came from' was out of respect for the Duke. Something akin to panic sets his heart to beating faster and he has to force himself not to just get up and run. "...um...you know what, never mind, the sand tower can wait. Let's just--"

But they're here now, and they're warning Dimitri not to trust the so-called Riegan boy, clearly an illegitimate child who faked his Crest somehow and obviously plans something sinister, and Dimitri would be better off sticking with-- at that point Claude stops listening. His heartbeat sounds louder to him than their words do, and all he can think is that Dimitri might believe them and then he'll think Claude lied to him about everything and he'll go back to Fhirdiad and Claude will never see him again and-- He tries to act nonchalant, like not looking at anyone is a choice he's deliberately making instead of something he can't bring himself to do, and like staring at the sand and closing his hands around fistfuls of it isn't to stop them from seeing his hands tremble.

Claude's never been the sort for hesitation or the like, and hearing him change his tune so quickly is startling. Dimitri turns and lifts his head, stands when he sees that they're being approached and even if he feels that odd, sudden lurch of dread in his stomach from Claude's shift in demeanor, he's quick to have a name to put to the sensation. And it's sad, that it's all the same. That these are the sorts of things he's heard a number of times, less frequently after he learned not to bring up Duscur around the advisors of House Blaiddyd, but often enough to know what they mean to say. He sees, more from the corner of his eye than anything, how Claude reacts, or more specifically how he doesn't. How he keeps his head lowered, how the sand trembles just slightly when his hands move. Rodrigue would have him recite Lamine's meditations to find his calm again, but the prince can't even hear his own thoughts--

Before he realizes it, he's lashing out, manages to catch the boy stood in front with his infuriating smile and knocks him straight from his feet; for all their difference in age and in height, it takes Dimitri only a single hit. The group lapses into silence.

"Claude." The prince's face is slightly paler once he turns to his friend, a tension to his voice he dares not show when he can help it. "Your grandfather will be expecting us. We... should consider returning soon."

Claude doesn't look up until he hears the sounds of a fight--well, a very quick and one-sided fight. He stares, wide-eyed, first at the boy who's flat on his back in the sand, then at Dimitri, hardly daring to believe what just happened. He dares to shift his gaze to meet the eyes of the others...what if they retaliate and hurt Dimitri? But they've stopped doing or saying anything, at least for the moment, and when Dimitri turns to him he's quick to stand, abandoning the half-built sand tower and trying to brush wet sand from his hands. "...yeah, let's go."

It's not until they've left not just the other noble children but the beach itself behind that Claude manages to find his voice again. "...thanks for not believing them. I would never--I mean, I'm not...I'm not here to do whatever it is they think I'm here to do. I told them that before but they never listen to me."

"Why _would_ I believe them?" Dimitri very nearly asks why it matters what they think either, but he knows the answer to that. Firsthand. The prince looks him over... ascertaining, concerned. And then he deflates a little, reaching with a hand, trembling slightly, to take Claude's hand. He–-he lost his temper. So quickly, too. And Claude...

Claude saw that. The prince keeps his eyes forward. "We can come back another day maybe, but I think we should go back for now. Okay?" He does, to his credit, manage a smile by the time he looks back at Claude.

Claude should have known better, he thinks, than to worry that Dimitri would listen to them, but...he couldn't help it. Fear doesn't abide by logic. And just as quickly as he's flooded with relief, it's followed by a little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he should have been the one to defend himself, instead of sitting there and letting someone else do it for him. Only a coward would let his friend fight his battles for him. ...Dimitri's so much braver than he is.

He takes the prince's hand gratefully and nods, pulled out of his thoughts by the contact. "Yeah." He tries to ignore the shame he feels in running away yet again. Is he doomed to run from everything, forever? Will he always be this afraid? He sighs. "Yeah, we should go back. You're right."

There's a few minutes of silence before Dimitri is able to calm himself and find his words again. He looks back to Claude – still gripping his hand tightly – and hums, thoughtful. "That sort of thing... won't happen in the Fódlan we're going to make."

Claude looks up again to meet Dimitri's eyes and smiles. "That's right. We're going to fix it. Me and you."

"No matter what it takes." It'll take some time, Dimitri knows, for his rage to cool, and what's more he is very much aware that he ought to go to Rodrigue and explain the situation as quickly as possible, before someone else may be able to twist around this story... a difficult thing but one that needs doing. "We ought to tell them. I would rather tell Lord Fraldarius what happened than have them hear from someone else..."

The thought of telling anyone at all makes Claude's stomach churn. To have Dimitri see what a coward he is is one thing; but to tell his grandfather and Lord Fraldarius...especially the latter, a strong, brave knight, the Shield of Faerghus. What would he think, hearing how House Riegan’s new heir couldn’t even stand up for himself against a bunch of snot-nosed troublemakers? “...do we have to?”

"We probably should... I don't imagine those boys won't tell anyone. If they're going to find out what happened, I would rather they hear what we have to say about it first, you know? More than anything, it was my fault..." For all that Dimitri's afraid, because he is, knowing what Rodrigue will think to see him being so violent, his pace doesn't falter as he leads Claude back to the Riegan estate.

”Wait, what?” Claude doesn’t stop following, but his tone is incredulous. “How could that possibly have been your fault? You _helped_ me while I just...just sat there.” His ears are burning, now.

"I'm... certain there were other ways to deal with it than knocking him off his feet." Though turned away from Claude, the prince's cheeks puff out the slightest bit. "Even if he was being an ass, I--" _Oh, oops._ "Well, I'm-- certain there were better ways I could have handled it. I could've kept my composure better... really, though, I'm glad. I would much rather this happen than you get in trouble."

”...I’ve tried all the other ways.” Quiet. “They don’t work. At least, not when I do them. Nothing works when I do it.”

As... discouraging as it is, to hear something like that, Dimitri refuses to show it. He squeezes Claude's hand. "Then I'll gladly hit whoever I must. I seem to be quite good at it." Briefly, he slows his step, just until he's walking at Claude's side properly, now, and links their arms as they normally do when they roam together. "Really, though... it makes me feel like I can't wait. Until we're older, you know? When we can say such things and be taken seriously."

Until they’re older? Like when they’re kings? For all that Claude’s the son of Almyra’s king, he’s never really felt like he could envision what his own ascension to the throne would be like. Why would anyone like him any better just because he was in charge? Who’s to say they wouldn’t riot or something, or send challengers to fight him until one of them took his title by force? Or just assassinate him like they’ve always wanted to? Why did he ever think he would be in a position to help Dimitri someday?

“Yeah. Me either.” Claude can’t bear to bring doubt back to the prince, though. So he nods, in a manner he hopes looks decisive, as he takes the offered arm. “I hope you don’t have to hit too many people...but you _are_ good at it. Heh. Like, _really_ good at it. Way better than me!”

"Ah. Well..." Dimitri isn't all that great, or at least skilled, at fighting; it just so happens that his strength is often enough to end any sort of fight he'd reasonably get himself into before it truly begins. Today was an embarrassment if anything, a failure to rein in his temper as Rodrigue's tried to teach him to do since the Tragedy... if it's for Claude's sake, then maybe he can live it down. "Really... I just can't stand people like that, that's all."

Claude considers arguing, but it doesn’t seem like Dimitri’s in much of a mood to accept compliments. Besides, he seems to be kind of embarrassed about having done what he did, and Claude doesn’t want to make him feel worse. So instead he just nods again. _Dimitri really would make a better king of Almyra than I would...ha. Pretty ironic._

It’s not long before they’re back at the estate, having spent far less time at the beach than Claude had planned. He doesn’t think to clean up or change clothes before finding Duke Fraldarius, though once they actually get into the room with him, he belatedly realizes maybe he should have; he’s sort of covered in sand. He’ll probably make a terrible impression on Rodrigue...in addition to his cowardice that’s about to be revealed. But Dimitri was clear that he wanted to tell the story, so...tell it they would. Claude hangs back a bit, though. He’s always a little hesitant to talk to Duke Fraldarius...so he doesn’t really know what the man thinks of him. He just doesn’t want to say something wrong and make him take Dimitri home...

At the very least, for all that Dimitri seems nervous, it isn't Rodrigue's presence to cause it, or at least not entirely. The prince bows his head to the man, briefly, before something in him seems to change, slide out of place. Even after Rodrigue seats himself, Dimitri remains standing once he delves into the matter—their trip to the beach, the boys that approached them. He doesn't go far into what, exactly, they intended to say; Dimitri recalls the look on Claude's face at the time and wouldn't like to force him into such thoughts once more... "I don't really regret it," comes his soft admission. "But I--couldn't help it. I won't stand to have him slandered for nothing. Those boys--"

"Dimitri."

Rodrigue's cut-in is firm, though instantly afterward his tone, his expression, softens once more. He seems to consider the prince briefly, then stands, and walks around the table to him. The duke kneels before him, and raises a hand, gentle, to adjust the light cloak that sits upon Dimitri's shoulders. "It is alright, now. There's no need to raise your voice—the balcony there. The breeze today is cold, and I'm certain it will be a comfort for you." The careful prod in his words doesn't escape Dimitri and he does, eventually, comply. The prince nods and moves, sullen, to cross the threshold through the open doors, stands against the railing.

Rodrigue, then, turns to regard Claude, though doesn't move to stand again. "Master Riegan, you look as though something weighs upon you."

Claude watches with eyes slightly wide as Rodrigue seems to transform from stern duke to...something else. Something that reminds him a little of Dimitri himself. He’s not entirely sure what just happened, but he doesn’t have much time to think it over before the man is addressing him directly, now. He adopts as confident an air as he can manage, trying to hide his nerves. “Dimitri thinks he did something wrong, but he didn’t.” He decides to just cut to the chase. ...then he suddenly remembers who he’s talking to. “—uh...I mean...His Highness. He was helping. He’s brave and kind, and he only got angry in my defense, so...he’s not in trouble, is he?”

"Hm. It will take some convincing, on the part of your grandfather. And I'm certain there will be a few other gentlemen and ladies of the Roundtable who will take issue with what His Highness has done... but I believe that most also understand that His Highness is grieving." The duke heaves a sigh when he pushes himself from the floor, and moves back to the armchair he once occupied. "I will admit that he ought to know better by now, especially since he is now more aware of the capabilities his strength gives him. But I also know that you have become a dear companion for him, Master Riegan, and that your company has done much to soothe him in these times. I could never be surprised to see a Blaiddyd take such a stand when in the defense of a friend."

”I’ll talk to my grandfather.” Claude sets a hand on one hip, unable to help a surge of rebellious stubbornness, hearing this. “I understand that Di— His Highness has to be responsible with all that strength of his, but if he bottles everything up all the time it’ll be worse when it does explode. I don’t want to see anyone force him to be someone he isn’t. Or make him feel like his gifts are a bad thing.” It’s okay for himself, Claude thinks, to be whoever he needs to be in any given situation to achieve the best outcome. That’s just the way his life is. But Dimitri is so earnest and open and bright like the sun...Claude doesn’t want to see that dimmed. 

It is true, though, that with strength like his, the prince could hurt people by accident...Claude's brows draw down a bit, thoughtful. “But...he’d be upset if he hurt somebody without meaning to. And I do recognize the potential for political backlash. So what if...I promise to step in if things get too heated?”

"I will be the first to admit that, in spite of His Highness' habits... there is much that can be done to support him." Rodrigue remembers a long long time ago when he once dealt not only with Godfrey von Riegan but his sister, as well... as a girl, at least, she was a firebrand. It almost feels the same, being pressed this way by her son. Rodrigue smiles. "But I believe it would do Prince Dimitri well to have such a friend. One who understands him when we cannot." The duke is leaning forward now, likely intentional in this brief lapse of decorum, sitting up with elbows braced upon his knees and chin in a hand, smiling so fondly as if it's his own childhood he reflects upon. "A Blaiddyd is strong, though they also, I have come to know, feel a great deal. Should you happen to be the one he has chosen to share these feelings of his with, then I will not object... though it is under these circumstances that I must make a request of you, Master Riegan."

 _Huh. The way he's talking, he knows about all this firsthand. Dimitri did say he was one of his father’s closest friends._ It’s funny, the way he’s attributing these things to Blaiddyds as a whole, like they’re in the blood as sure as their Crest is. Well, maybe they are...or maybe this is another one of Fodlan’s weird obsessions with bloodlines and expectations. Claude can’t stop his brows from lifting in surprise, at that last bit. “I’m listening.” Maybe that was too flippant...but the Duke hasn’t seemed to give him any dirty looks for anything yet, so...he doesn’t backpedal.

"With all of the time you have spent in his company thus far, I would imagine you've noticed how he can be. Not only that he feels many things but his willingness, too, to share them. There are certainly a fair number of people who would use such honesty to their advantage with no hesitation." He looks to watch Dimitri. He stands on the balcony still, seemingly relishing in the cool breeze, undoubtedly reminded of home... "I ask only that you should help him, when it may seem he stands to be taken advantage of. I alone cannot protect him from everything, but I could never bear to see him lose what little innocence he still possesses."

 _...oh. So Rodrigue really does care about Dimitri._ It’s odd, to hear an adult say things like this. He’s used to being told he needs to learn to fend for himself; that innocence is the same as naïveté, a weakness. And the Duke is presenting it as one, too, but...not one he wants to crush out of the prince, like Claude would have expected.

He’s quiet for a long moment, realizing that although Dimitri may have been the one protecting him on the beach today, Rodrigue is right—there are other ways in which Claude can protect Dimitri, ways he’s much more comfortable with than direct confrontations like that. They can defend each other. Play to their strengths and shore up each other’s weaknesses. His demeanor is much more serious when he nods, looking Rodrigue in the eye. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Then he smirks a bit. “Or at all, really, I would have done it anyway. But I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He hesitates for a moment...should he bring up the things Dimitri told him about the Tragedy? “...that said, I have a request, too, Your Grace.”

So he is indeed like his mother, or what little Rodrigue gleaned of her. The duke's smile only seems to widen at that. "Of course, Master Riegan."

”...okay, two requests. One is can you please just call me Claude? I hate ‘Master Riegan.’”

"I can make no promises in the presence of the Roundtable, but... I shall do what I can." 

Claude nods, then takes a step forward so he can lower his voice, to make certain Dimitri can’t hear him. “Don’t underestimate him. I know he’s a little naïve, but that doesn’t make him stupid. If you really want to look out for him, you should believe him when he tells you something important.” He holds his gaze steady, looking the Duke in the eye. “Protect his innocence if you want to, but he’s not a child anymore. And he’s smarter than he gives himself credit for.”

Rodrigue's expression changes little, as Claude voices this request of his. It takes no great leaps of logic to understand what he alludes to, nor to assume that Dimitri would have shared with him the events of Duscur. "I understand. And, for now, I will say... it is not that I haven't considered his words, in that regard." Ever so slightly louder, he continues, as he stands. "There will be plenty of time around His Highness' schedule, should you feel the need to visit the study your grandfather has so graciously prepared for me, Claude. I do hope you'll be willing to share more of your thoughts with me then, perhaps. For now, though, I intend to do what I can to attend to this matter."

The look Claude gives Rodrigue is too shrewd for the sort of expression one ought to find on a 13-year-old’s face, as he nods. “Thank you, Your Grace. I appreciate it.” Maybe he can trust Rodrigue more than he thought - more, perhaps, than Dimitri thought. It wouldn’t surprise Claude much if the prince had missed some nuance in Lord Fraldarius’ responses to him, when they talked about these things. In which case, this may be the perfect opportunity for Claude to begin protecting his friend the only way he knows how: through scheming.

"I'm glad that you understand. For as long as I'm able... I would like for his time here to serve as respite for him." Rodrigue can see now, perhaps, one reason Duke Riegan eventually agreed to take the boy in. "As far as the matter at hand is concerned, I will be certain to relay this information to your grandfather... and will be sure to emphasize the points that you and Dimitri have made clear to me. On that topic, was there anything else you wished me to impart upon him?"

 _Oh...right._ Claude's almost managed to forget why they came to talk to Rodrigue in the first place. He’s not sure what else he could say that would convince his grandfather any better that his very presence here isn’t more trouble than it’s worth...so he shakes his head. In this case, letting Dimitri’s words stand for themselves seems like it will work better than trying to dress them up, much as it feels to Claude like he’s hiding behind them. “No, that’s all.”

The duke nods, considers further; it's with a final glance at the balcony that Rodrigue bends forward, so that he might talk to Claude more quietly. "Until I know for certain, I wish to keep Dimitri out of it. I understand if you shouldn't wish to keep secrets from him, but I ask that you refrain from telling him for now, if possible. If he might have only a short time left to live without worry, I want it to last for him."

 _Live without worry..._ It’s too late for that, Claude thinks, but even so he can understand what Rodrigue means. After all, the ostensible purpose of this trip to Derdriu was to give Dimitri a change of scenery to get his mind off his grief, and even if that was a bit of an excuse, it wasn’t a lie. If Claude can do the worrying for him for a little while, he will. “It’ll stay just between us,” he assures the duke quietly. Maybe not for too long, considering the plans he’s already made with Dimitri, but for a little while, at least.

"And know," Rodrigue says, and straightens, "that my door is open should you, either of you, wish to speak to me during our stay. I insist." The duke turns to the balcony then, spares one last glance to Claude to nod to him, before he sweeps carefully out, and places a light hand on Dimitri's shoulder so as to refrain from startling him. There's a murmur to him, the briefest of hugs and a ruffling of hair, before the duke is entering the room once more with Dimitri in tow. "Rest assured that neither of you is in trouble so long as I have any say in the matter."

Claude watches this fatherly display of affection with mixed feelings...even here in the Alliance, he hasn’t seen much of that sort of thing, let alone with his own parents. This, he thinks, is closer to his relationship with Nader...although Nader would never keep secrets from him just to spare his feelings. But he wouldn’t want that, anyway. _Wait, isn’t Rodrigue Felix’s father...?_ It’s only just now occurring to him that the duke’s own actual son stayed home. He’ll have to ask Dimitri about it. “Thanks, Your Grace.” He gives Dimitri a wave, looking much more comfortable now than he did when the prince left the room.

Having had a moment of fresh air and the time to compose himself, the prince does look at least a little better now. He gives his thanks and goodbyes before the duke leaves, lingers awkwardly for a moment after the door's closed, before moving to Claude. There's less haste in him, when he moves to take the other boy's hand. "How... did it go? I'm sorry I had to leave..."

By contrast, Claude takes Dimitri’s hand readily. “I like Rodrigue. I mean, Duke Fraldarius. We had a good talk. And I asked him to stop calling me ‘Master Riegan’ and he did.” He grins.

That's... a relief for Dimitri, honestly. There wasn't much he was in a state to say as far as trying to reassure Claude went, before all of this. "I still haven't gotten him to stop calling me 'Your Highness' yet! I think he just might not know how..."

Claude giggles. “Well, he did call you Dimitri once or twice while I was talking to him, but I bet if he tried to do it to your face he would just explode.” He brings his other hand up to his face and makes an explosion gesture with a quiet sound effect.

"You're probably right... I guess it can't really be helped." Dimitri takes a second to try and coax Claude to follow him back to the balcony – Rodrigue was right in that the breeze is nice today – but he also wants to keep gazing down at that view... "I wasn't really afraid of getting in trouble, but I didn't want it to get in the way of the stuff we want to do. Since Uncle Rufus isn't here, it shouldn't be so bad."

It doesn't take much coaxing for Claude to follow Dimitri out to stand by the rail and look over the bay and the town. "Why, what would your Uncle Rufus do?"

"Were he here, I would have been grounded, probably... or made to train all day. He tends to get angry, when I... cause trouble." From here, a sea of green and gold stands between them and the city, rippling in the prettiest waves as the sun sets. Dimitri... really could never tire of sights like this. He folds his arms against the balcony railing and sighs." I hope that that's the last of it. I don't want to give you any trouble, either."

" _You_ , cause trouble?" Claude scoffs, annoyed, though not with Dimitri. "I'm the one who caused the trouble, just by _being_ there. It's just like I told Rodrigue, you didn't do anything wrong. Funny how everybody in Faerghus seems to expect you to defend your friends but then says you're 'causing trouble' when you actually do it." He leans against the railing with one arm, half-facing the prince and resting his chin in his palm. "You're a warrior-prince, they can't get mad when you act like one!"

It's rare to render the prince actually speechless; all he can really do is shrug, but the wind manages to help him hide his sigh. "I kind of get what they mean, I think. It's not like I shouldn't protect my friends, but I... Uncle Rufus says that I have a temper. Maybe that's what they mean..."

"So what? Lots of people have tempers." Claude sighs. "I know, it's different, because of your Crest and everything. But you barely even touched that jerk, and then you walked away--I'd say you reined it in better than most people would have."

"'Better than most people' isn't really good enough there." It's a quiet admission, but casual enough. Dimitri turns his head enough to see Claude beside him. Something else... they ought to talk about something else. "We should probably see what they're making for dinner. And then we can try and go back to the shore another day."

Claude opens his mouth to argue further, but Dimitri is clearly changing the subject. There's a part of him that wants to continue anyway, to keep trying until the prince gives in and accepts that the expectations his uncle has for him are totally unreasonable, particularly after everything he's been through. But instead he just nods. "You got it. Let's go." He reaches for Dimitri's hand again. "Hey, Rodrigue is Felix's father, right? Why didn't Felix come too?"

"He asked him... Felix didn't want to come." Dimitri doesn't know what he'd have done if Felix really had agreed to join them... Glenn hangs over his head already as things are now. "You remember Sylvain? His family is sheltering Felix while Uncle Rodrigue is with me."

Claude nods. “Of course I remember Sylvain, he’s the one who says ridiculous things. And talks to girls a lot.” He’s secretly glad Felix didn’t come; otherwise, he’d have to share his time with Dimitri, and he wouldn’t be able to talk so freely about his homeland or his childhood or anything. “And Felix is the one who really likes swords. And Ingrid is the one who likes to ride a pegasus. I’d love to ride a pegasus someday! We don’t have them at home and they’re pretty rare here, too. Have you ever flown on one?”

"Ah, I don't do too well with heights, but I _have_ been on a pegasus before..." It's one of his few memories of Count Galatea, the day when he took Dimitri and Ingrid into the air for the first time. He wonders if he would do any better now, were he to attempt wyvern riding with Claude...

”Well, I’m good at riding wyverns _and_ horses, so I bet I’d be great at riding a pegasus!”

As their conversation goes on, lingering on the most random of topics, the prince can't help but let his mind wander back... he leans against Claude's shoulder. "You know... even if I do end up getting in more trouble, I would do it again. In a heartbeat."

Claude's spirits were mostly back to normal - it’s hard for him to stay down with Dimitri around. So it takes him off-guard when the prince comes back to the earlier conversation like this, and when he leans closer, just like that. “You...you would? But...I thought you were upset that you lost your temper...” But he’d do it again, for Claude’s sake? He feels like he’s back in Fhirdiad again, blushing like a moron at every other word Dimitri says. His smile is a bit wondering, as he rests his head against the other boy’s. Dimitri’s hair is so soft! “...thanks, Mitya.”

"I was upset, but..." Dimitri's eyes are on his own hands now, watching as he picks at the seams along his gloves, but he can't bear to move away from the other boy. "Some time ago, Uncle Rodrigue told me something. I... remembered it when I was thinking earlier, though I don't really know if it applies here--"

”What is it?” Dimitri seems nervous. But he knows he can tell Claude anything, right? Maybe Claude should tell the prince so explicitly sometime, just in case.

"Once, he told me that using my strength... if I'm protecting the people that I love, it isn't something that I should be afraid to do. Or... ashamed to do. I-- agree that I need to control it better, certainly, but I won't ever stand aside when it's for my family... and not when it's for you either."

Claude wishes they were alone somewhere private, like in his room or on the roof or something. Because then, maybe he wouldn't feel this horrible pressure to bottle up everything Dimitri's words have suddenly unleashed inside him. He's spent his whole life justifying his existence. To his parents, to prove that he'll be worthy someday. To everyone else in the world, that his birth wasn't some accident of misfortune, that he doesn't exist just to cause trouble for them. He knew, by now, that Dimitri was his friend--his closest friend, his only real friend, the only person in the world who's never expected him to prove he deserves to be there by his side. But...this is...a lot. It's a lot, and he wants to just accept it but it's so hard--

\--because he shouldn't _need_ Dimitri to protect him. And as much as he loves to hear that the prince wants to, he also kind of hates that he loves that. The more Dimitri stands up for him, the more people will say that Claude's only reason for being close to Dimitri is to hide behind him--his strength, his position, his ability to just belong everywhere he goes. He doesn't want to hide behind Dimitri. And he doesn't want people to think he's just...some schemer who only likes the prince of Faerghus because of what he can get out of it. And more than anything, he doesn't want _Dimitri_ to think so. ...and he doesn't want to _be_ that person. But already he can tell that it really would be easier to let Dimitri protect him forever. He can see a path for himself that's made so much less rocky by bringing his friend with him along it at every step. ...and he knows that if he asked, Dimitri would do it. No hesitation.

 _'Don't,'_ he wants to say. _'Don't say that. You_ have _to stand aside when it's me. I'm different. This is different.'_ He wants to say that, but he also wants to just thank Dimitri over and over again for this unconditional support and friendship that Claude hasn't done a single thing to deserve.

And he can't force any of it out of his mouth. He can tell he's about to cry, and he really, really doesn't want to cry in front of Dimitri. He makes a strangled noise, trying to choke down a sob, and then he just...runs. Away from Dimitri, somewhere else, anywhere else, just...away.

For a beat, the prince has no words—he doesn't realize that Claude is _going somewhere_ until he's already departed the room. Dimitri stiffens, bolting to stand straight, and after he's finished standing slack-jawed and he's found more than choked words stuck in his throat, the prince stumbles back into the room.

"C-Claude?" He hardly waits for an answer before fumbling his way out into the hall, looking frantic down the corridors that stretch away from the parlor and seeing nothing, not a soul. "Claude?"

Perhaps after a week he ought to be familiar, know better where in the estate he is, and where to go to get to Claude's retreats here. Perhaps he does and it's only the panic clouding his thoughts, because none of it looks familiar, so suddenly. An aborted stride down one hallway begets another down a different path, and another still before Dimitri comes to stand still again. Dimitri, he's told he's an odd one, and even now he can hear his uncle tell him of his childishness, and Felix tell him how ridiculous he is, but he can't for the life of him fathom what it could have been.

Rodrigue will... probably be back. Maybe Claude will too. And still, Rodrigue always told him that he ought to find a quiet place like this, somewhere he can wait and calm himself and where they can find him... the prince glances around one last time, looking for a glimpse of curls or the bright colors Claude wears. He'll-- Dimitri will wait for him, then. He ducks back into the parlor, leaves the door cracked, sits in Rodrigue's armchair... and waits.

* * *

For a few minutes, Claude just runs aimlessly. Downstairs, ignoring the admonishments of staff who don't want him running inside the house, and then outside and away toward the meadow behind the building. And then through it and beyond, up the steep hills to a little cliff that overlooks the ocean. Here is where he stops, sitting at the edge of the cliff and wrapping his cloak around himself and finally letting himself cry where there's no one to make fun of him for it. There's a part of his mind that thinks it's a little silly, not wanting to cry in front of Dimitri, the one person who isn't likely to do that, but...he just can't. He can't let Dimitri think he's weak or selfish or...anything bad, because he can't lose the only friend he has.

He loses himself out here, first in sobbing into his cloak and then just in thought, staring out at the ocean and letting the waves hypnotize him. This, he thinks, was stupid. Running off with no explanation, just because Dimitri said something heartfelt and kind? _What is wrong with you, Claude?_ But he can hear the whispers already, just like those kids on the beach. Saying he's manipulating the prince, taking advantage of his compassion and grief for his own gain... Even if Dimitri himself never believes it, it could ruin the prince's reputation, make him look like a weak and naïve ruler. Claude can't let that happen. Not ever.

He doesn't know how to have both. There has to be a way, though...he can't give up. He'll have to find it. Maybe...maybe he could trust Rodrigue to help him? ...maybe. He lingers here for a long time.


	10. Derdriu: Ser Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Dimitri talk about what happened. There's a dance lesson and a history lesson. And hugs.

It's not until the sun starts to set that Claude realizes he's been out here much longer than he intended. He's probably missing dinner right now...and the duke is probably going to be angry with him for it. That thought just makes him want to stay even longer, but he gets up anyway, brushing grass off his cloak and making his way back to the estate. He doesn't care about getting in trouble, but he doesn't want Dimitri to worry.

Geoffrey scolds Claude, of course, as soon as he gets back, and his flippant response probably doesn't do him any favors. Gods know what the valet would say if anything ever actually happened to his charge. _Who knows, maybe he's hoping something will._

Dinner is a tense affair. Dimitri can tell that the duke is trying, trying to keep his displeasure from showing even as the seat beside his stays empty. He's fortunate that Rodrigue does well enough in keeping Duke Riegan occupied with conversation, because Dimitri himself hasn't been able to speak more than a mere few words since their arrival, ever since the Shield found him still lingering in that parlor.

With dinner pressing upon their time, Rodrigue told him that they were to talk afterward, but Claude's arrival manages to drag him out of his reflection. _Tired._ Claude looks tired, worn somehow when he comes in; Dimitri doesn't manage to hide his wince when the dining hall doors open, nor that little spike of panic that resurfaces again at the reminder of what he did, whatever it may be. He does try to smile, at least. He tries when he and Claude briefly meet gazes across the table, as much as he feels more like hiding away in his bowl of soup...

Claude tries to act normal when he enters the dining room, but of course all eyes are on him when he walks in. As usual. His grandfather says something quietly to him and he mumbles some excuse back, probably staring down an after-dinner lecture at this point, but he can't bring himself to care. The only thing he really cares about as he sits down is that Dimitri's smiling at him, hesitant though it looks, and he makes himself smile back to ease whatever worries he's sure the prince has. He tries to convey that Dimitri didn't do anything wrong, with his gaze if nothing else, and tucks in with enthusiasm so he can finish eating quickly. ...he's got to talk to Dimitri after dinner. Explain everything...somehow. Maybe. He's not sure he can explain it in a way that will make any sense.

For as much as Dimitri spends dinner fumbling to keep up, Rodrigue, at least, is intent on keeping them all occupied (and Dimitri is left to admire his social skills as always, wonders if he'll ever be as skilled at navigating conversations as his Shield is, thinks that Claude is like that, too, even right now)-- The end of dinner can't come soon enough though. Though he made no comments in regards to the looks Dimitri sent Claude's way all throughout their final course, Duke Fraldarius doesn't seek the prince out immediately; he even proposes that the boys run along while he and Duke Riegan continue their chat. Maybe he'll be able to appease Claude's grandfather's anger, a bit...

Claude's grateful for Rodrigue's ability to keep the conversation moving without settling it on him or any of the day's events, and pipes up to help deflect it whenever it veers close. He eats as fast as he can, but even so, the prince manages to leave first... _He must really be eager to get out of here, huh? ...maybe he's mad at me for abandoning him for hours. Hard to blame him._

Dimitri lingers in the hall, after he's said his farewells to Duke Riegan and taken his leave of dinner. Claude won't want to see him, was likely only staying friendly so that his grandfather wouldn't get more cross with him, but he has to apologize. Must.

When Claude comes out into the hall and lets the huge double doors swing shut behind him, he finds Dimitri waiting there. He lets out a silent breath of relief. "...hey. Um...I'm sorry for running off like that. It's just what I do when things get rough, I guess. --not that you said anything wrong! You didn't." He fidgets, fiddling with his braid with the fingers of one hand.

From Claude's earlier reaction, Dimitri would have and _did_ assume otherwise, not that he looks anything short of thoroughly relieved. He can't begin to imagine what Claude might've been doing in the interim and doesn't want to push it by asking. "I'm glad. I thought... I'm glad to see that you're okay."

'Okay' might be an overstatement, but...Claude nods. "Yeah. Um...can I...I mean, can we go somewhere else?" Somewhere more private, he means.

"Y-yes." Dimitri manages to catch himself before he tries to take Claude's hand, at least. He's still feeling out of sorts enough that he'll, ah... let Claude take the lead, here. Rodrigue and Duke Riegan probably won't miss them, though...

 _Oh..._ Dimitri usually takes his hand whenever they go somewhere, especially inside the manor...maybe he _is_ mad. Claude fidgets for another second or two before turning and leading the way up to his room. Once they get there, he shuts and locks the door and then...hovers for a moment, before going to sit on the window seat, pulling his feet up and tucking them underneath him. How is he supposed to explain any of this? "...are you angry?"

"I'm not." Dimitri is, however, still not entirely convinced that _Claude_ isn't... he's able to claim a seat on Claude's bed, if only because of the few instances he's slept here since his nightmares became known. "I... did not want to push you. You say that I didn't say anything wrong but I--" He has to know what it was. He'll never say it again in his life, if it means he won't watch Claude flee from him as he did today. "--must have. I must have..."

”You _didn’t!”_ Claude immediately jumps back up to join Dimitri on the bed instead and grab both his hands. “You didn’t. Okay? Please trust me.” _Please._ “It was just...I’m. You said I was like family, and you wanted to protect me, and...nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before. And I had a lot of thoughts, all...swirling around. And I, uh...” He didn’t want to tell Dimitri this, but if the prince was going to keep thinking it was his fault... “...I didn’t want...to cry in front of you.” That last bit is nothing but a mumble.

The prince stares in silence, squeezes Claude's hands back almost out of habit; seeing him panic almost makes Dimitri in turn, though he manages not to, once he's taken a moment to consider what Claude's said. There's no panic, merely the prince's silence, the grip of his hands tightening, and the release once Dimitri moves to pull Claude into a hug instead. _A mess, this is all a mess._ "I trust you, Claude." Dimitri can't bear the thought of him crying, but even worse is the thought that he might think he needs to hide something like that. "I do. And... maybe with how much I cry, I don't think I could judge you for crying." It comes out half-laughed, that, and is followed by the most careful of squeezes from his arms.

Gods...just hearing Dimitri say ‘I trust you, Claude’ is threatening to dredge tears back up again...for all that the prince is literally saying he wouldn’t judge him for crying right now, Claude shoves the instinct back down savagely. _I'm such a mess..._ He clutches Dimitri tight, though, hugging him close and squeezing his eyes shut. “...thank you,” he mutters. The words seem inadequate. He’ll have to figure out some other way to show Dimitri the overwhelming gratitude he doesn’t know how to express, just for the prince being here with him and being who he is.

After a moment, Claude pulls back a little so he can look at Dimitri. He could, he knows, just stop there. Just deflect further questions and say something vague and leave it at that. He badly wants to. But...that’s not what Dimitri would do. He would be brave and talk about it even if it was hard. And Claude thinks...that maybe he should try to be more like Dimitri. Just this once. “...it’s hard to explain, but...I’m not supposed to let someone else protect me. And...and I really appreciate that you want to, that you _did_ , but...people will think I’m...” The words dry up in his throat. Saying it out loud makes it feel real. Like if he says it, Dimitri will suddenly suspect it’s true. “...nobody else trusts me,” he finishes weakly.

Dimitri isn't certain what to say, clearly, from the way that he studies Claude's face in a brief few moments of silence, and the soft noise in his throat as he contemplates it. Dimitri could never blame anyone for being slow to trust – he wouldn't have come to trust any of his friends had he not known them before the Tragedy and Claude is an inclusion in that list, probably, a scary thought – but... "I know there isn't much we can do now." How he wishes they were older, in better positions. "But we'll show them. We're friends, we... we're equals now and we will be then, too. They'll trust you, when they see what you can do, and the things that you want—you want to help everyone, they'll see that in the end."

And he'll do whatever he needs to to make it so, regardless of what they may come to think of him for it. They can whisper and gossip all they want--it's not as if they don't already--but that's hardly the sort of reassurance that Claude needs now. His knowledge of Almyran culture is still limited, incredibly so, but if Dimitri had to guess...

”...that’s the dream, anyway. Heh.” Claude wishes he weren’t surprised every time Dimitri doesn’t say the thing anyone else would say. He wishes he could just take it on faith, always, that he doesn’t have to worry about the prince mistrusting him or hating him or changing his opinion of him. Why can’t he just accept it? And how is he supposed to repay this?

He thinks Dimitri is wrong, that they will never come to trust him the way the prince does. But he isn’t about to say that. And, much as it hurts, it doesn’t matter in the end. They don’t have to like or trust him, as long as he succeeds. “I guess you were right - it would be nice if we could just skip to the part where we’re in charge.” He tries on a smile, in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

"A little." Were Dimitri a king, were they both old enough to take up their helms, their cooperation could begin in earnest; they could become allies and not only friends, but just as well... "While we're here, though, we can have our fun... and we can prepare." He can hone his strength, grow stronger in those places he's weakest... "And, maybe I won't be protecting you, but there's no way I won't support you."

"Prepare...yeah." Claude feels like so far his entire life has been nothing _but_ preparation, and that won't soon end. But it'll be worth it, eventually, if he's patient. And now he's going to help Rodrigue protect Dimitri, too. "I'll support you, too. And...I really was happy to hear you say you think of me like family. My grandfather's fine, but he doesn't look at me that way." Nobody looks at him the way Dimitri does. He's not sure how to feel about it, sometimes, but it's never a bad feeling.

Claude's happiness never fails to brighten Dimitri's mood, either, so to hear such a thing has the prince smiling anew, even if maybe a little of that doubt, that fear, continues to linger. He scoots carefully, affording Claude a little more room; one hand remains clasped with his while the other moves and drags over his lion, so that he might hug both of them close. "I think that we _are_ like family. It's... I don't know how much I really believe in things like... destiny, or fate, but. If anything could be fate, I think it would be you. Meeting you."

Claude's smile grows wider to see Dimitri bring the lion in for a hug...he always makes Claude feel like the things he does matter to him, that he treasures them. It's always been easier for Claude to express his softer feelings through _doing_ things than through words, so he's glad Dimitri can understand these gestures for what they are. "Yeah...where I come from, the gods of fate are a pretty big deal. Sometimes I'm not sure if I believe in them, but...maybe one of them is smiling on me, since I get to have you here with me for a whole year. Heh." He pats the lion stuffy with his free hand. "Does he have a name?"

"Mn, he does. His name is Ser Pan—after King Loog's faithful and trusted advisor!" Now he'll have to find him a Loog and Kyphon to accompany him, perhaps; but for now, Dimitri is more than satisfied with this precious lion of his. When the prince brushes a piece of lint from his little felt cheek, there's such tenderness in the gesture.

"Ser Pan...King Loog was the one who founded the Kingdom, right? I've never heard of a Pan, though." Claude should read up on more Faerghus stories, he thinks, so he can impress Dimitri next time...

"He was! He broke Faerghus away from the Empire, to try and restore it to what it was before it was conquered. He had his advisor and shield, Kyphon, but he also had his other dear Pan, who was his tactician." Despite the finer details of the history being little more than speculation outside of the royal household, there's never any hesitation to share such things with Claude. The thought doesn't so much as cross Dimitri's mind. "They say that he was incredibly selfless, and that in spite of how powerful and smart he was, that he'd devoted himself to Loog... and that he would get so angry whenever they tried to record his deeds, that there's hardly _any_ mention of him doing anything but helping Loog. He's really quite a mystery... but it always sounded to me like they were quite close, don't you think?"

Claude listens to the story attentively, resting his chin in his hand with his elbow propping it up on his lap. "Wow... Yeah! I bet Pan wanted to stay mysterious so he could make sure everybody remembered Loog for all the great things he did, and also so nobody would guess his tactics." He hums in thought. "Don't they call Rodrigue the Shield of Faerghus, too?"

"They do. Just like how Loog is my ancestor, Kyphon would be Felix's, and Rodrigue's—he was a Fraldarius. Father used to say they stopped using their last names for some time, since in Old Faerghus they weren't very common. I don't know that Pan had any descendants... that's one of the things they didn't write about him, I suppose. It's a little sad."

Claude muses over that for a moment. "That's fascinating, to be able to say it was your great-great-great...whatever who founded the whole Kingdom. I guess I can say that about Piers von Riegan and founding the Alliance, but that's not nearly as exciting. And Almyran legends are more about individuals who do specific things, instead of bloodlines. I bet Pan is Sylvain's ancestor, or Ingrid's."

"Maybe, but... you would think that would mean one of them was meant to be my advisor, right? You would think something like that wouldn't have just faded into nowhere..." The prince sighs, and briefly squeezes the lion in his arms. "Regardless, I love him."

"Hmm...maybe. I guess what you need is somebody really smart to be your tactician!" He flushes a little to hear Dimitri say he loves--either the stuffy, or Pan who he named the stuffy after. Either way, it's obvious he really likes the little lion, and...that's...nice.

"Well, I don't doubt I'll find one, or be given one at the very least, though... I can't help but think it'd be hard finding someone who could live up to you. I guess it's a good thing that we'll be allies, then. I don't think I could compare to you otherwise."

Claude's eyes go wide as plates for a moment--that isn't what he meant...! Could Dimitri really think that? But a second later he's grinning--on the outside, at least. Inwardly, he's hoping he managed not to look like a tomato. Most people think his schemes are underhanded and suspicious, not smart! "Well, I _am_ pretty great. But you are too! We're just good at different things. That means we'll be a perfect team."

Dimitri lies back on the bed, eyes to the ceiling and arms flung wide. "I think it'll be nice to visit you when we're older... whether that's here or your home. The Alliance or Almyra... both would be lucky to have you, I think."

When Dimitri lies back, Claude follows suit but lies on his front instead, so he can rest his chin in his hands to look at the prince and swing his feet up behind him idly. The bed is humungous--way too big for one skinny 13-year-old! Which does, admittedly, make it easier both to share it with the prince and to jump on...oh, Dimitri's said something to make him blush again, gah! "They _would_ be lucky, huh? ;) They'd be lucky to have you visit, too. When you're king, every time you visit can be a big party! With feasts and dancing and music and everything. You should visit me in _both_ places."

The prince makes a face at the mention of dancing, though the rest... no, that doesn't sound bad at all. He'll always be glad to see Claude, and he thinks any reunion between them would probably be something worthy of a celebration, especially if they're to spend less and less time together in person... "I'm not really one for dancing but... I guess I could dance if it meant that I got to spend time with you."

"You don't like dancing?" He looks surprised. _Doesn't everyone like dancing?_

"Not really... oh. Do you know how they dance in the Empire? Usually the sorts of dances I have to do are the same... all, stiff and horrible, and I can never stay in rhythm with my dance partners... like Edelgard." He's feeling shivers just thinking about it...!

"Eugh, that _does_ sound horrible. It's the same here, too...my grandfather says I'll have to learn those fancy noble dances soon. They look _so boring_. But that's not _real_ dancing, like we do at home. Come on, I'll show you!" Claude jumps up from the bed and holds out a hand to Dimitri.

In spite of the myriad arguments and denials his mind concocts, it's without a word that Dimitri stands and takes Claude's hand, even if he can't really seem to hide his nervousness just yet.

Claude grins and grasps both of Dimitri's hands then, arranging the two of them so that they stand facing each other. He starts to hum a little tune, then sings it aloud, though without lyrics, just melodious syllables. When he starts moving them to the rhythm of the song, it's not strict or precise, but loose and relaxed, with only a few very simple steps that are easy to learn--before Claude starts to improvise on them almost immediately.

For all of his complaining, Dimitri is able to keep a rhythm decently, and so even after he adjusts to Claude's change in style, he... manages. He's still quite bad at it, and is really more holding onto the other boy for dear life than actually dancing with him, but he's smiling—laughing, albeit nervously, even when his feet falter or he bumps into Claude mid-step. "I told you I-- hah, I'm no good at this!" Why couldn't it have been a nice and calming song he decided to hum?

"So what? It's _fun_ , you don't have to be good at it!" Claude doesn't mind at all when Dimitri fumbles a step or moves the wrong way--in fact, he's made a little game of turning the prince's mistakes into part of his improvisation. He twirls Dimitri around, laughing. "When we dance at home, we usually do it in big groups. Nobody cares if someone trips or makes a mistake, it's just loud and exciting."

"Faerghus nowadays is probably the opposite of loud and exciting--" And really, it just makes Dimitri even more excited at the prospect of, someday, maybe, getting to visit Almyra. The prince lets himself struggle along for a little while longer, but he isn't used to expending his energy in dance, and so eventually needs to take a moment to breathe. "Goodness... you always astound me... with your energy...!"

Claude finishes his dance with a flourish and then flops back onto the bed, grinning. "It's good to dance until you get so tired you can't anymore! My combat instructor says it gets the blood pumping. Well, translated directly it's more like 'it makes your heart gush a river of blood' but that's just a metaphor, ha."

"Ah..." Dimitri lands (much more gently) on the bed, and folds his hands in his lap. Calmer now, and able to breathe much more easily too, the prince smiles and moves to join him lying, resting on his side to face Claude. "... thank you. For being you, and being my friend, and-- everything. I don't know what I would do without you, but I know I would never be this... happy."

Claude blinks at Dimitri with wide eyes filled with frank wonder. He’s so surprised, so...touched, that he can’t even pretend to put on his usual flippant attitude about it. He blinks again, feeling abruptly like he might cry, and he definitely doesn’t want to do that. “...I...really?” He has no idea what to say, so he turns to fling his arms around Dimitri and hug him tightly. “Me too,” he says quietly, almost a whisper. “I mean, without you. I know it’s selfish but...I wish you _never_ had to go back to Faerghus.”

There are all sorts of things on the tip of his tongue, but Dimitri knows better than to let himself speak without considering his words carefully. He doesn't even pause before returning the embrace, regardless, even if he must be a little more careful when he wraps his arms around Claude. "I've thought such a thing... I feel bad for it, but I have. I think about not being able to do this with you, and it... upsets me, greatly. Sometimes I fear that letters might not be enough, but-- even after I go back to Faerghus, this doesn't have to be the last of it."

There's the academy too, isn't there, and the years beyond—he knows they can't avoid being separated, not forever, but... Dimitri won't let it be long. He won't let them go so long without seeing each other, he thinks, no matter how many deals he might have to strike with his uncle or Rodrigue or, or whoever.

"Yeah...I know." But going back to being alone, constantly watching his back because there's no one to do it for him, not being able to make Dimitri laugh, having no one to fully trust...the idea feels unacceptable. Impossible to deal with. "But still. ...maybe I'll run away to Fhirdiad, haha." He presents it like a joke, but it almost isn't one.

"You would have to go through _mountains_ , Claude." The both of them were asleep for most of that portion of the ride here, and Dimitri doesn't know if Claude had seen it when he first came to Faerghus, but... it's a horrifying thought, that he might try to scale it alone.

"I would, though. I would go through mountains to see you. Anyway, mountains don't matter--I would fly there!" And Claude's already considering the details of how he might pull it off...

Dimitri settles in again, and tries to find comfort in this impromptu nest of blankets he and Claude have found themselves in. "We'll find something. Figure something out," he whispers.

Some of Claude's usual confidence has returned, and he nods. "Of course we will. I'll come up with the perfect scheme." He lets go of Dimitri, only to shift in the blankets to lie with his head resting on Dimitri's chest, like a pillow. "And I'll write you so many letters you'll get sick of reading them."

"I won't ever get sick of reading them." That is somehow the part of this Dimitri takes issue with. He lifts his arms, so that Claude might settle better, and lets one drape lightly back over him. "Whether it's ten years or a hundred years from now, I won't, never."

"A hundred years? Wow, Mitya, I didn't know you planned to live forever." Claude grins, to keep himself from feeling once again like he might cry. "If _you_ live forever, then I have to, too. So you have to share your secret to immortality with me."

"I'll let you know as soon as I do, I swear it." Wouldn't that be nice. Dimitri's starting to tire, though: after... everything, he feels exhausted in more ways than one and even more, lying here with Claude in the warmth of his room, it's so soothing. The prince allows his eyes to close, if only for just a minute to rest them. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting tired already..."

”I’m always up for a nap. Besides, you make a really comfortable pillow. ;)” Claude closes his eyes too, letting the rhythm of Dimitri’s heartbeat lull him to drowsiness, and in not very much time at all, to sleep.

How glad he is, Dimitri thinks, awake even as Claude drifts off to sleep on top of him. The prince is careful, if a little mindless, with the fingers that play gently with Claude's hair, and he thinks he must be lucky, to not have royally messed all of this up. It's fitful at first, the uneasy sleep he falls into with Claude (and Ser Pan) to keep him company, but he's lulled all the same to know that, for now...

They're still together. That's what matters. "Sweet dreams, Claude..."


	11. Derdriu: Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time waits for no one. The day finally comes when Claude and Dimitri must say goodbye.

The weeks pass, and turn into months. Claude teaches himself to cook spicy foods for Dimitri, with a few disastrous experiments at the beginning and a fair bit of success by the end. They both get back into their usual training routines, and often train together as well; Claude learns a lot about how to evade extremely powerful lance thrusts and how to lose to Dimitri at swordplay over and over again. He watches in wonder as the prince does, in fact, lift barrels of rocks and other ridiculous feats of strength, just like he said. Dimitri teaches him to climb trees; he teaches Dimitri to swim, and to row a gondola. They study together, and Dimitri helps Claude with his math while Claude helps Dimitri with battlefield tactics, and they indulge in their mutual love of history whenever they can. And, true to his word, Dimitri helps Claude catch up on years of noble etiquette lessons. Duke Riegan remarks, after a while, that he's seen a marked improvement not just in Claude's manners but his attitude; Claude says he guesses he's just that good. He's pretty sure his grandfather knows the real reason, but they don't talk about it.

In fact, they don't talk about much outside of Alliance politics and what Claude needs to know to be duke someday. Claude does manage to secure a promise that he'll be sent to the Officers' Academy, though, and ends up talking to Rodrigue a lot more than he talks to his own grandfather. Over the course of the year, both Claude's and Dimitri's rooms gradually transform into monuments to the gifts they exchange constantly. They take long horseback rides together, and go flying a few times, although Dimitri never quite becomes comfortable in the air. Claude helps Dimitri find ways to cool down during the hot summer moons, when it gets much warmer than it ever is in Fhirdiad. And through it all, in the back of their minds is the knowledge that each day is one day closer to the time when it all ends.

And eventually, as they knew it would, the day comes when the prince and his entourage must return to Faerghus. Claude manages to get a few hours of sleep the night before, but not many, and he gets up as early as he can to make sure he has as much time left with Dimitri as possible before they depart. Breakfast feels like a funeral to him, but he keeps a smile on his face the whole time for Dimitri's sake.

It passes as most other mornings do, though Rodrigue's usual conversations with the Duke are replaced with new questions – if they enjoyed the trip, if they've already packed their things, how long they'll be staying before they depart – and Dimitri intends to ignore all of it. He turns to Claude instead, and brushes the hair from his eyes. "You know, I--there was something else I wanted to give you today." It isn't as if either of them hasn't heard this a number of times over the moons, but his smile is even brighter when he says it here. "Do you think they'll notice if we...?"  
  
Claude turns in relief to hear Dimitri interrupt this torturous meal. "Who even cares if they notice? Let's go." He puts his fork down immediately to grab Dimitri's hand and slip out of his chair. He has a gift for Dimitri, too, but he can wait until afterward.  
  
If either of the adults notices, nothing is said, at least not before the boys make it out of the dining room. Dimitri falls into step in front and takes them up to his rooms... he brings Claude to sit on the bed, and then moves to dig through the wardrobe for a moment, reaches through right to the back-- there it is. "I was almost afraid that they wouldn't be finished in time," the prince murmurs when he comes to sit on the bed beside the other boy; once he's offered it to Claude, a long and flat box of dark ebony, Dimitri occupies his hands by playing with the braid flung over his shoulder. "But... I couldn't be more happy with how they came out. Go on, open it!"

 _Finished? So it's something he had made, probably..._ Claude's curiosity prompts him to open it immediately instead of teasing Dimitri about his enthusiasm, as he's been known to do.

Inside the box is a set of bracelets, navy leather cord entwined with shining gold. Merely seeing them again has Dimitri alight with excitement, if a muted, embarrassed sort, and he softly clears his throat. "I wanted... I meant everything I gave you before, but I wanted there to be something for us, _just_ for us, you know? Rodrigue helped me find a jeweler to make them and everything..."  
  
A slow, touched smile spreads across Claude's face, as he examines the bracelets, picking one up to run his fingers over it. "Wow...just for us." He nods to himself, as though that sounds just right. "I love it! It's so pretty." He looks back up at Dimitri, smile widening. "It's our colors. Blue for you and gold for me."  
  
What a relief his reaction is for Dimitri—as if there existed a chance Claude wouldn't appreciate the sentiment. The prince's smile comes easy now, though. "It is! I'll have our letters, and the things you've gotten me too, but I... you know. I wanted something that I could keep with me. A piece of the safety that you give me." It's a little difficult, handling the clasps on the bracelet with his gloves on, but Dimitri wastes no time in taking it into his hand and looping it around Claude's wrist to secure it there.

"Yeah...I know exactly what you mean." It's hard to resist just hugging Dimitri right now and never letting go again. Instead, Claude holds his hand steady while the prince clasps the bracelet.

"Does it feel okay...?" Dimitri asks.  
  
Claude looks at it, nodding. "It's perfect, Mitya. Here--" He takes the other one out of the box and pulls the prince's hand close, so he can do the same in return. "There. How's that?"  
  
Dimitri needs a moment. Seeing them like this, and knowing how appreciative Claude is of them... the prince gives a shaky breath before flinging his arms around the other boy, pushing him over onto the bed in his desperation to hug him. "It's perfect," he repeats, on the verge of a hiccup.  
  
"Whoa--" Claude wraps his own arms tightly around Dimitri as they fall over onto the mattress, trying not to think about how tonight he'll go to sleep by himself and then he'll wake up tomorrow and train by himself and do his studies by himself, and...he swallows, holding onto Dimitri like his life depends on it. "...thank you, Mitya," he manages, softly. He buries his face in Dimitri's shoulder for a little while, to discourage himself from crying. No crying. After a time, he gives the prince a pat and extricates himself--after all, it's not goodbye quite yet. "I have a gift for you, too. It's in my room--come on." He holds out his hand for Dimitri to take.  
  
Dimitri frees Claude from his grasp, wipes briefly at his eyes before moving, without pause, to take Claude's hand. "I--I'm sorry. You know I... yeah." The other boy has told him a few times he shouldn't be apologizing for these things, and Dimitri knows he's right.  
  
Claude squeezes Dimitri's hand briefly and then runs off to lead the prince to his room, not caring even a little if someone chides them for running in the halls. As it turns out, no one does, and soon Claude is pulling Dimitri over to the window seat and sitting him down there, before going over to pull something out of the wooden chest at the foot of his bed: a small mahogany scroll case. He brings it over to sit next to Dimitri and hands him the case. "This is for you."

When Dimitri opens it, he finds a long piece of parchment rolled up around something else. He's ever so careful in his handling, as if even a single tear in this parchment is unacceptable (to him, though, it is, the moment he manages to discern calligraphy from its other side). Unrolling it, he also finds a necklace made from seashells and turquoise beads on a plaited cord of hand-woven threads in green, gold, and amber--colors that Claude has said are the colors of Almyra. The scroll is written in Claude's most careful handwriting, in Almyran.

"...it took me a while to make it, because I could only work on it while you were somewhere else, so you wouldn't see it." Claude watches Dimitri's face carefully, hoping the other boy remembers what Claude told him, about how he and his mother used to collect seashells on the beach and she would make jewelry out of them. It's one of the few memories he has of his mother that isn't in some way intimidating.  
  
When Dimitri sees the seashells, pristine in condition, woven so carefully throughout, vibrant and beautiful in that way that, really, only Claude is... He bites his lip, and runs a careful thumb across a shell. He looks to the parchment then, though isn't able to read very far before he must stop—when Dimitri looks at Claude, the letter and necklace tremble in his hands, and his eyes have begun to water. "C-Claude–-"  
  
Claude smiles, though he can once again feel a tightness in his throat and a pricking at his eyes...he tries to push them back. "I thought, this way you could practice your Almyran while I'm not there. It's my favorite poem. It's...about how the ocean touches all lands, so even when people are far apart, the sea carries their greetings to each other..." He trails off, blinking furiously, as Dimitri starts to blur in his vision. _Don't cry. Don't._ "...anyway, um. I hope you like it. It's like you said, I wanted to give you...something special, this time."  
  
"I do. Very much." And Dimitri even holds it for a few moments longer, before he realizes and thrusts his hands out to Claude. "Um, would you help me put it on?" Gloves or no, his hands are shaking too much to fasten it properly, he knows already without trying.  
  
"Yeah, of course!" Claude takes the necklace carefully in both hands and unclasps it, then nudges Dimitri to turn a bit so he can place it around the prince's neck from behind and clasp its ends back together again. "I guess it doesn't really go with all your blue clothes..."  
  
"It's perfect," the prince breathes out, and chokes up all over again when he feels the necklace sat securely around his neck. When he faces Claude again, the tears are rolling freely down Dimitri's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be crying, but-- but..."

This is it, at least for now. These reminders of Claude will help him greatly, he thinks, but what could possibly be the same as having him here, standing side by side with one another? The prince takes a few seconds to dry his eyes, and then hugs the other boy again when it has little effect, unable to stop the tears or the words. "I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you, but-- I'm so glad I have you."  
  
_Oh no..._ Dimitri's really crying now, and Claude's having more trouble keeping his own tears back, too. He doesn't hesitate to hug the prince back again, as tightly as he can without squishing the boy. "Nobody's ever been my friend like you," he mumbles, unable to stop his eyes from leaking onto Dimitri's shoulder. "Nobody ever will, either. I don't...I mean, you're the only one..." He sniffles. "It's going to be awful here without you," he whispers. It might be the most honest thing he's ever admitted.  
  
Dimitri almost doesn't know what to say—he has been trying, desperately at that, not to say such sentiments even if he feels them so deeply, hoping that in spite of it all, they might part ways without making messes of themselves... every word Claude says, though, he feels deep in his heart, and Dimitri squeezes him, carefully, tightly. "I'll come back," he says, and even rocks slightly with Claude there in his arms. "If you can't come to Fhirdiad, then I'll come back to Derdriu. And then we'll go to the Academy together, just like your grandfather said. We might be apart for a little while—but I'm never going to leave you. I promise, I _swear_ it." He's going to keep every letter, every gift, and he's going to send Claude every ounce of support and care and love that he can, however he can. They'll both need it.

Dimitri doesn't know how much time passes before there's a knock at the door, soft, though not enough that he can ignore it. He releases Claude, eyes puffy and all his tears dried on his cheeks and sniffles, smiles. The prince takes Claude's hands in his and squeezes them. "It'll be okay, Claude. I know it will." He touches Claude's bracelet with a finger, brushing over their intertwined colors. "I promise."  
  
Claude pulls back and nods, hastily wiping at his eyes and making himself smile back. "I believe you."

That's a lot less honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the childhood phase! Thank you so much for reading. <3 Next comes the interim phase...
> 
> (I (Seuris) have also caved and finally made a Twitter, and you can find me @ fellstarseuris if you want to yell about Dimiclaude or demand to know why I haven't updated other fics yet. See you guys in the next entry, and thank you for reading part 1 <3)
> 
> (Oh, right, Twitter is a thing XD this is SS, you can yell with me about Dimiclaude too @ missdhiarmada if you like!)


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